Metamorphosis

by M1ss_R4v3n

Summary:

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

Or

Something strange is happening down below the surface and the ghouls are in need of some outside and unorthodox help in the form their boss.

Or or

I had an impulse thought and decided to write something huge

Notes:

Apologies for issues, this is my first time posting here :)
Also, tags will be added as the story continues, and I hope this all makes sort of sense for now.

Chapter 1: 1

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?  

 

Perhaps a puzzling question, but a genuine ask for one Papa Emeritus The IV; as, of course, he'd been dragged into something else ghoul related once again. Honestly, he was becoming quite tired of babysitting these creatures. Maybe he should've come to that conclusion quite a few years earlier; the time he'd caught a few of them attempting to hijack a Ministry van should've been a tell. Or maybe it was the day they'd super glued his office supplies to his desk. Whatever the reason, Copia was becoming irritated with their antics. 

 

He loved them, however; always keeping their priorities above his own. They were his to own, but how he saw it, they were his to love as his own. So, of course when Special had called upon him to appear in the ghoul's den for a meeting, he'd gone along with him without a second thought.

 

Special was an interesting ghoul. Copia didn't quite know what their relationship was. The ghoul was cordial, if short, with him the few times they'd needed to interact; but there was always a lingering sense of lowly simmering disdain in the bite of his words or the touch of his glamoured hand. But perhaps that was due to the fact that the ghoul just never removed his mask around any Papa, previous or current. Copia didn't even think Sister had seen him without it. He'd heard the whispers from his devilish peers about Special, how he'd growl about Terzo or Secondo's supposedly disgusting habits; but Copia knew that was just how they acted, brash and sensual in their nature as Papas. As an advisor, Special would need to report even the most intimate details about whichever Papa he'd be assisting; so he knew everything, and that was frightening to Copia.

 

He chose not to think about that as he was led to the den. 

 

Energy pulsed within and Special scowled under his mask at the prickly feeling. But maybe that feeling reminded him of his own prickly demeanor. He brushed it away with a small quiver of the shoulder as he pushed open the doors, revealing a den stocked full of built creatures. 

 

They were all unglamored, seemingly dropping their more presentable ghoulish personas as well with many of their forms seeming to twitch and pulse with the need to break free. It was a more unique sight than the pope was used to. He'd only really seen those forms upon first summoning, not having adjusted just yet to what exactly he'd gotten himself into; all teeth and claws, but joined with melodic voices and gentle touches. They were still beautiful; as beautiful as they'd been when he'd first seen them. Copia had been captivated instantly by all of them, having to restrain himself from touching after each summoning. Although, that wouldn't necessarily matter as he was swept up anyway by most of them. 

 

Just as he was now, all ghouls perking like cats at the sound of the door slamming open. Large, toothy smiles broke out across all different types of faces and Copia felt warmed at the sight, raising a hand in an awkward hello. 

 

“Glad you could join us, Papa,” They all beckoned him into the room, parting in front of a large dining table for him. It was ornate, and wafted with the air of something old but sacred; traditional in its carvings of their teachings, each telling its own story of who was who and what was what. Copia had seen it a few times hidden in various rooms around the Abbey, but he'd never had the chance to study it. 

 

There were initials etched into randomized parts of the wood, snapshots of ghouls and humans alike who'd all stood right where Copia was standing now. Remnants of figureheads much better than him. But maybe that was just Copia being Copia. Whatever the case, he still found himself admiring the large piece of furniture, transfixed by the hasty scribbles of his own ghoul's initials, repeated frequently across the expanse of the flat surface; and he found himself wondering what they meant. Why were his ghoul's so special that their names were there, and so deep as well?

 

“Yes, hmm,” Copia murmured, eyes dazed in thought. He'd been doing that more often, thinking of other things, of grand wars taking place somewhere else; all teeth and magic instead of gunfire and explosives—perhaps there were some explosives—daydreams of things he'd been unused to seeing often appearing in place of paperwork and ink. They were terribly distracting and Copia often found himself at the grand altar late at night, praying to the Olde One to grant him enough peace to at least finish that day's work. “What, eh, what is the meaning of all this?” He continued. The Pope's eyes shut slowly a few times as he came back to himself. 

 

A small burst of energy zipped around the table, crackling in purple and orange as it touched across a few members. Truthfully, Copia would never tire of the sight of their magic. It awed him every time he got to see it, touch it, be so wrapped up in it that he felt at peace. Maybe that was the reason he had sought out Aether as a mate. The ghoul's intimate connection with his element created a protective environment, and it didn't help that the press of quintessence across his veins felt like the best drug he'd ever had. 

 

Sometimes that purple lightning was used to ease his pain, siphoning joint aches and migraines away from the source to disperse around them in light, airy clouds. Sometimes Aether preferred to show off his abilities to the aging pope, fingers dancing across the air that jumped to life with flowering sprites and swirls tinted in royalty; wrapping around the pair and tickling Copia's senses with something more, as if he might be able to read the ghoul's emotions through these pictures. 

 

There was another use that the pair indulged in sometimes as well. Aether had been very quick to warn Papa that it might be dangerous, he might be different afterwards should something go wrong—which, Copia replied, it shouldn't because he trusted Aether wholly. 

 

“Even if I did,” He'd began, resting two gentle, naked hands on Aether’s tensed shoulders; reassuring in his caresses. “I know you'd still be here, because I'd still be here; and I'd still love you just the same, lo mio luce stellare,”

 

Aether had internally agreed just from that alone, his heart bursting and cheeks flushed a lovely shade of lavender; but outwardly, he held the stance that Copia should know what he was getting himself into, the rules so to speak. He laid them out each time the two decided to indulge, which was not often as this type of magic took hours to perfect; hours of gentle touches and quiet whispers and taking each other apart until nothing was held in secret. 

 

Each entity was different as Aether had come to figure out over his hundreds of years of life; and Copia was just as different. He required pampering—of course he did. His flashy personality didn't drop even in the privacy of his room—and patience, which he would always return with hushed whispers of gratitude that his ghoul was so willing to do something like that for him. So naturally, after hours of that sort of banter, his Papa would be emotionally rubbed raw enough to let him in without hesitation. 

 

That was the big deciding factor for this type of thing to work: hesitation. If one decided midway through that they shouldn't want to continue, it was disastrous. Unhealthy because this was not just a case of “putting someone under”, this was a case of entering into one's mind, creating ideas and thoughts and feelings and actions from nothing. To control a person. Pliancy was not something Copia was used to, but something about Aether had brought out his house cat demeanor; floppy like that when they coupled together. But that was part of the appeal, the unwillingness to say no. 

 

Maybe that sort of thought process applied here too. 

 

“You've been informed of the conflicts underground?” Cirrus began, clawed hands spread authoritatively across smooth wood. Copia responded with a dumb nod. 

 

Of course he had. His pack whispered about it quite frequently. How sneaky they thought they were. It wasn't until weeks later that Imperator had pulled him aside to formally educate him about the conflicts happening in the Pits; about the genocides and dictatorships sidling up alongside the daily upstairs. She had told him about the dwindling numbers of ghouls as they geared up to push back against a new governmental development that would essentially erase them if it happened to work. They were dying to save their souls, their livelihoods, their beings. 

 

Copia had never felt so helpless before, unable to assist as humans were not allowed into the Pit. It wasn't a rule, it was a promise; he'd be burned alive if he so much as slipped a pinky past a portal. But, he'd desperately wanted to help in any way he could, especially after hearing that his own ghouls were being called upon to assist. They were truly the best of the best soldiers that could be offered, and there they were, up on Earth playing key tars and tambourines to screaming fans as Hell raged below their feet, literally. 

 

“Okay,” She took a breath as if psyching herself up to speak. “We've spoken with Sister Imperator about something important regarding this,” Cirrus continued. Copia's eyes scanned the table, landing on each unglamored face; all holding an unreadable expression, like they were still wearing masks. “As we're getting ready to descend and help our elements with this, we decided that we should bring some extra help,” Copia raised a brow, what did that have to do with him? If they were asking him to do another summoning ritual, he didn't see the point as they would just be returned downstairs once his ghouls were properly equipped to handle themselves. 

 

“But, what should that have to do with me?” Copia murmured curiously, hair flopping as his head tilted. Cirrus's expression softened for a moment, a fleeting look of admiration and something sadder before hardening once more. That was a look Copia had seen quite often throughout his life, the gentleness mixed with something akin to pity, or disappointment. But what could he possibly have done this time? 

 

“Are you comfortable with performing a transformation spell?” Cumulus chimed in, purposefully ignoring the elbow jab delivered by her mate; but not without a small yelp. Now he was even more confused, certainly he was no stranger to that kind of thing. He'd completed one with Dewdrop before his first tour; which was still a sensitive subject between the pair. They didn't need to say anything when they were alone to know that they were both still thinking about it, apologies given still in the press of lips against cold and warm skin or deft fingers playing across each other like the frets on a guitar; melancholy in the guilt trapped underneath the skin. Guilty even if they had both been willing parties.

 

“Si, yes, but uh-” He was cut off by the slide of a large hand across his shoulder, calloused fingertips curling over the singer’s clothed collarbone, creasing the fabric there.

 

“We need you to complete one for us,” Rolled Mountain's bass, rumbling through the pope's chest. It was always interesting to listen to Mountain speak, a rumbling voice piercing underneath other ghouls' shrill tones. He didn't do it very often, content to sit and listen—much like Rain, now that Copia really thought about it—before he even thought about speaking up. The Earth ghoul's voice was often low and gravelly from lack of use, deep and fitting for such a large and imposing figure. 

 

Copia's brow furrowed as he flicked between the ghoul's around the table. The majority holding expectant expressions, eyes wide and bodies leaned a bit close over the edge of the table. Overeager as they often were. But certainly, Copia could agree and complete the ritual, forcing yet another ghoul into another experience he'd not wished to ever do again. He was acutely aware of just how affected Dewdrop had become after his transformation, demeanor changed—different, like something might be missing. Copia, himself, had become quite traumatized after the ritual; jumpy and surrounded by guilt constantly. He'd broken one of his ghouls, burned and marred him. He didn't think he'd ever be able to come back from that. Truthfully, Copia had conceded to never put his ghouls, his partners, through that again. 

 

And he thought they knew that, so why was this being asked? 

 

Sighing tiredly, Copia began, “Who is it?” He deflected, thinking it smarter to know what exactly he was getting himself into before a definitive “yes” was given. 

A silence followed around the room, air so tense it was almost static; maybe it was, Aether and Phantom sure seemed to be crackling in discomfort. Even Copia began to sense the unease spreading over his head and he cleared his throat to at least attempt to gain a bit of authority back. “Well? I would find it most agreeable to be told today, yes?” He delivered in the calmest way he could muster. 

 

He was never comfortable with ordering his ghouls, content to treat them more as friends—although that label was discarded upon the end of their first tour together and turned into something deeper, pack dynamics or whatever—than as subordinates. He felt disgusted having to yell at these creatures who were nothing but good to him. Rain had told him a few years ago that they didn't have a choice but to be his. It was a product of their summoning. They would be eternally loyal to him and him alone. The inherited ones were a bit different, but they were still just as obedient; and Copia hated that. He wished for them to have their own autonomy. Well, they did, but they acted more like dogs in that aspect; leeching his presence until they decided to go somewhere else. But Copia didn't want to tell them to sit or spin or whatnot. He wanted them to do that themselves, without his input on everything they did. 

 

A shuddering growl set off a chain of a couple more around the table, hackles raised and ears pinned back as Aether spoke up. “It's…not what you think, Papa,” He began, rounding the corner to slide up beside him. The ghoul was large, demanding attention anytime he entered a room. It was one of the attributes Copia found himself drawn to, practically melting every time Aether would hold him. Much like now, as two clawed hands came to rest upon his upper arms, piercing past his black denim jacket; reassuring in their pricks. 

 

Copia wore marks from all his ghouls proudly; rings of teeth crooked and straight, slices and pierces, bruises and breaks. They were a telling of his devotion to them, theirs to him. They made him imperfect, but in the best way. Stories of celebrations, apologies, hatred, all of it was captured across his skin like the pictures Swiss kept in his lockbox. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist—certainly, if his workload was anything to go by—but who was complaining apart from Imperator, who reminded him constantly that those marks were getting harder to cover up; especially the ones on his neck. Copia would shrug and tell her each time that it was no different than her coupling with Papa Nihil—when they actually liked each other, of course—just a bit more territorial. 

 

“Then what is it?” He looked out to the circle of ghouls again. He felt reduced to that day in 2018 again, an unknowing Cardinal stuck on the outside of this inner circle of first impressions. He felt helpless once again and sank in on himself a bit as Aether pulled him into his broad chest. 

 

The ghoul inhaled deeply, skin crackling against Copia's cheek before he spoke up, “It's…you, Papa,” He breathed, grip tightening instinctively around the human’s shoulders as he felt the man tense. Copia lifted his head, eyes swimming with something distant; understanding maybe. He wasn't sure he was reading any of them right however. 

 

“Me? But I'm not…” He trailed, detangling himself from Aether's grasp to face the crowd. All of them were watching him, expressions unreadable and sparks popping in the air around them. “Come funzionerebbe?” He was human, organically made from flesh instead of hellfire. It was supposedly impossible for something like that to happen, or so the scholars said. 

 

It had been attempted before, mainly by uneducated young people looking to change into something different; a trend that lasted just about as long as it took for the first few victims to perish. It wasn't safe. Ghouls bodies were built to withstand the deviousness in the Pit, built to handle the burning fire or poisonous water. Humans were not; they could barely stand the fire on Earth, let alone downstairs. So of course, multiple people died and the Clergy decided to…sweep it under the rug for the time being. But they did ensure that no person ranked below a Cardinal would be allowed to access those ritualistic books. So, at least they possessed a fraction of consideration. Maybe Copia gave them too little grace, after all, they were part of the decision to ensure his reign as Papa. 

 

“We know how it sounds,” Cirrus began, bringing attention back to the head of the table. “But, we've observed you for almost, what, six years now?” Agreements rounded the table. “You're different, Copia,” She concluded, dark eyes shining with admiration and adoration. Copia was still not used to that being directed towards him. She was correct however. They had all been traveling together for several years, learning deep secrets and interests about each other in that time. He'd learned of their pasts down below, of infighting and elemental disputes and the like; their traumas, likes, dislikes, desires. All of it. Just as they'd learned all about him. 

 

At first it was alarming. They'd come up to him, a bit hesitant, and tease him about quirks and fidgets he didn't even know he did; teasing him with statements asking what he meant by a phrase onstage or what a gesture implied. Copia had offered little more than a shrug or an awkward smile, claiming he didn't realize that meant anything. But of course, he'd always walk away with a tiny smirk. Naturally, teasing soon turned into mocking; as it always did with this band of creatures, and Copia found himself more often awkwardly shuffling away to avoid the barrage of unintentional insults directed at him. He could give a bit of credit maybe, he did participate in some instances. They were funny, what was he supposed to do?

 

Eventually, his little pack of ghouls had become at least a little bored of the continual teasing and moved on to the next thing; although, Copia could swear he could hear the occasional challenge of “old man” tossed about behind his ear. Being a competitive man, Copia could never turn down a challenge; even if it was delivered with ulterior intentions. 

 

So he supposed they did have him figured out quite well; well enough to remember all the little things in his life. For that, he would be eternally thankful. He'd vowed to all of them a year or two beforehand that he'd go beyond Earth for them; he'd crack open his ribcage and lay his heart bare to them before anything else. They were his and he wished for them all to know that. 

 

“Is different a bad thing?” Copia replied, voice as small as he felt. A resounding ‘no’ echoed throughout the room and he felt a little better about that. Being judged was another thing he didn't want to think about then. “Then what?” 

 

“You're special, Papa. And we think we've figured out how,” Cirrus concluded with a smile. She straightened at the head of the table and gestured for everyone else. 

 

“But first, we need your answer,” Aether tailed. “You don't need to say yes, and we'll understand if you don't, but-” Copia raised his hand to silence the ghoul's fussing. It was strange how alike they were. Perhaps they spent too much time together. They really should've labeled themselves at that point, everyone already had their suspicions that the pair was together. But Aether had felt fear for Copia's head if the Clergy ever found out about their coupling, fussing about it each time they even so much as brushed past each other in public. 

 

He'd held Copia at an arm's length at all times when the group was out together, anxious of prying eyes mostly. In Papa's humble opinion, Aether could be a bit overprotective sometimes; he'd always brush it off with the claim that it was just a product of their bond, something primal that every ghoul had. But Copia knew better than that. Whatever the cause was—although he'd figured that out pretty fast—Copia was content with their secrecy for the time being. There was always a small part of him that longed for it to be known, to show everyone who truly loved him. Someday , was always the response he'd get. 

 

“Ghouls, my ghouls,” Copia began. “I appreciate your concern, but you do not need to worry,” He offered a reassuring smile and planted two leather-clad hands on the tabletop. There was still a small part of him that was unsure about this, afraid of the potential consequences that might occur. He supposed they’d all just need to be a little extra careful. But that didn’t stop the slight shaking of his fingers against the wood; the leather in his gloves creaking softly as he clenched one hand. “I…I would be, eh, honored to do this for you,” Copia breathed, an odd sort of fiery determination settling behind his eyes. 

 

Truthfully, he had no clue what exactly he’d gotten himself into. War was not something he’d given much thought to, but he’d given it enough to know that he’d never want to get involved. They were usually petty disagreements anyway. But, he still had quite a few questions; why were they asking him to do something like this in the first place? They all knew how he felt about a transformation spell. They’d seen what damage it had done not just to him but to Dew as well, and why the hell was he agreeing with them about this? It all filled Copia with an increasing sense of dread about this operation. But he trusted his pack, and he was certain—mostly—that they had his and their best intentions in mind for the future; whatever that may be. 

Chapter 2: 2

Notes:

So how we feeling about the new MV drop?
It's been on loop so much that my airbuds won't show me the right recap anymore smh.
Also, new Papa?????
I meant for this chapter to house the ritual, but ended up getting carried away and write 3,000 words of cuddling instead, oopsie.
So, ch. 3 will have the action!
But for now, happy reading

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?  

 

Copia had been pondering a concept similar to this for the few days after that initial meeting with his ghouls. Oddly formal, but perhaps that was Cirrus’ doing. He could appreciate her professionalism from time to time; even admired it, although he’d only tell her that in private. She always seemed to know how to get her mates attentions. She was a commanding force without the typical meanness he’d seen in certain other figures. He found her quite motherly in a sense; nurturing in a way he’d missed for many of his later years. Copia enjoyed spending time with Cirrus, the pair usually curled up together with books or tea or the quiet crackling of a fireplace as they dozed on one of many sofas littered around the Abbey. Domestic, just as he—and apparently Cirrus as well—desired. 

 

The end of the world… It wasn’t a question he’d been asked directly; moreso something he’d pieced together through various conversations he’d overheard as of late. Copia, honestly, didn’t mean to eavesdrop as much as he had been doing. But it was a bit difficult not to when the conversations were happening inside his office, or his rooms, or during mass when he was squished between the ghouls. Copia’d begun to think they were doing it on purpose; to dance around the issue instead of addressing it outright. He was really that close to demanding they tell him the what for. Really he should’ve, it would do them some good to remember he was their boss and not just their mate, friend, partner, what-have-you. 

 

But he just couldn’t. Call him a pushover, he certainly was; he’d admitted to it a few times—after a couple drinks of course. But it was true. He held them all too close to his heart to really order them around. But of course they’d all figured that out too and just couldn’t help themselves from exploiting his rule-bending from time to time; such as the time with the van. It was just too enticing. 

 

Enticing like the stack of papers Papa Emeritus IV was currently leering at was not. He didn’t necessarily need to be doing this work. In fact, Sister had suggested he pick up a secretary to handle the menial tasks he was currently writing out by hand. But Copia had declined with a gentle admission that he could simply do it faster and better than anyone else might. Of course the disadvantage of that was that he was currently locked up inside his office at who knew what hour instead of…sleeping? What time was it anyway? 

 

His daydreaming was squandered by the door nudging open quite rudely, and a few of his companions shouldering their ways inside. Copia sighed and leaned back in his chair, sinking against the red backing cushion as if he might disappear to somewhere else and complete his work in peace. He honestly wasn’t sure why he’d allowed his partners the permission to enter his office whenever they pleased because it clearly did not help him whatsoever. 

 

“Ghouls,” Copia greeted, not without a bit of bitterness in his tone; which of course the three currently ambling about his space did not catch. “Unbelievable,” He muttered and went for his pen once more. 

 

“Papa!” Filtered Dew’s whiny pitch and his pen was seized by the guitarist’s skinny claws. Copia snarled at him. How dare they burst in here and ruin his concentration like this. But, he was quite used to this, so he just went for another pen from his drawer. 

 

“Yes, ghouls?” Copia sighed as his eyes dropped back to the document in front of him, attention focused there instead of on his intruders. “Is there something you all want from me or did you just show up to be distracting?” A collection of snickers filtered throughout the room and Copia’s eyes rolled dramatically. The remark was not meant to sound sultry—as it often was rolling off the pope's tongue—but Copia caught the lilt in his tone as it fluttered over his ghouls’ heads. 

 

Another time, perhaps, he might have indulged the trio; but he simply couldn't. Between the war happening below him and the war happening within the upper levels of the Clergy, Copia just had no time to deal with their antics anymore. Although, they did appear rather distracting that day; dressed in casuals instead of their uniforms. Not particularly unusual, especially since he'd taken charge, but still a welcome surprise. Copia always enjoyed studying his ghouls’ abnormal features; tracing shaking and tired hands across the molten markings Dew wore across his chest; the paper-thin gills Rain shied away from exposing; or all the battle scars Aether held from the various times he'd been requested to serve down below; or the infirmary, some of those patients were ruthless. 

 

They were all uniquely beautiful in their own ways, and Copia found himself particularly drawn to that paranormal-ity. He'd vowed to them all that he'd spend the rest of his life devoted wholly to them, just as they'd vowed to him. 

 

But today was a day that he'd partially regretted that offer. 

 

“We can be distracting if that's what you want, Papa,” Swiss purred from behind him. When had he snuck up behind him? Copia jolted slightly and shot him a glare void of any real annoyance over his shoulder. The multi-instrumentalist slid clawed hands across Copia's shoulders, digging the points just barely into his shirt. 

 

“Yes…si, I'm sure you all could,” Copia murmured, half listening as usual, as he scribbled away at whatever it was in front of him. Budgets or something his ghouls couldn't be bothered to care about. “But I really do not have the time to, eh, entertain you all right now,” He set his back-up pen down and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him, gazing expectantly up at the two ghouls he could actually see. 

 

Dew and Aether, dressed in casuals as well; although Aether appeared the most professional out of the three, dressed in a simple black button down and slacks; coming most likely from the infirmary. It suited the ghoul nicely. Although, as Copia observed rather intently, the shirt appeared to be just a bit too small, pulled taut across his chest and arms. He supposed the quint did that on purpose, not that he was complaining. 

 

“So, what do you need from me?” Copia concluded, brows raised and chin now steepled across gloved fingers. There was a small shift in the air that Copia just barely caught. It sizzled across his newly shaved upper lip and filtered into his nose with the scent of late summer, when the leaves just began to crinkle and the temperature dropped below sixty. It was calming, and Copia knew what that meant. It meant bad news; or what his companions viewed as bad news. 

 

“We um…” Aether began, unsure and hesitant. Unusual. The rumble of a cough pattered up through the ghoul's chest before he spoke again. “We were wondering if you might be willing to…to do it now?” Aether rushed, as if Copia might figure him out before he even said a word and run away. He did not, but a small part of him thought about it. Though, the tiny sizzle of magic still lingered in his head, fuzzing just a little of his inhibitions; enough to ensure he'd hear them out. 

 

“What?” Copia squawked. “Why now?” He wasn't entirely opposed, but had they not seen the workload he'd been stuck with? Surely there would be a better time than now for him to do this. Copia wasn't even sure what this kind of ritual would entail for him afterwards. Truthfully, he was a bit frightened of what would become of him after. He'd seen what this had done to his precious Dewdrop and he still felt such intense guilt, wearing it all over when the two were alone together. 

 

It was a sensitive subject between the pair, but it was one that Dew had promised wouldn't be an issue between them. The ghoul had spent many nights talking his human companion down from various ledges and reassuring him that he wasn't upset anymore. But Copia cringed inwardly at each glance of Dew's scars, not because of their appearance, but because of the reminder of what he—in his mind—had been compliant in, despite not hearing of it until long after it was done. 

 

“Things are…” Swiss interjected from his perch behind the pope, throat rumbling against the top of Copia's head as he spoke. “They're bad, Papa,” He finished. Something like fear dusted Copia's senses from the stocky ghoul. It was an odd feeling to come from the silver-tongued multi. Outwardly, he seemed to have a good enough head secured to his shoulders; enough to know what to do. Like Mountain or Cirrus, just a bit reckless with it sometimes; a good amount of the time .

 

The pope pondered that statement for a moment. ‘Bad’ could mean anything relating to his band of ghouls. It could be the difference between sneaking up on a group of unsuspecting siblings or making another napalm bomb. But something about the attitudes of the three drew him away from either option. 

 

“Bad how?” Copia questioned, turning his chair around to gaze up at his multi-instrumentalist. Swiss stared back, eyes swirling with inky black. They were always beautiful to look at, tiny flecks of glowing white and pink dashing like comets across the expanses of his scleras. Copia often found himself becoming lost in the tiny constellations when he got the chance to, staring so intently that Swiss often had to pull him back to reality with a small joke and bashful laugh. 

 

“Bad, like, we need your help now, bad,” Dew interjected a bit rudely. Only Dewdrop could act so snidely to Papa Emeritus IV and get away with it so easily. 

 

That was something Copia had learned quite early in their professional relationship. Dew took better to camaraderie than he did to orders. Copia was never good at delivering orders anyway. But that was definitely a sharp learning curve for him as it often impacted most of the band's aspects as well. Copia had found it impossible to attempt to control Dewdrop's outbursts at first and one day he'd just snapped, dragging the snarling ghoul into the other room practically by the length of his whipping tail. 

 

Dew was, as he usually was back then, not receptive whatsoever to Copia's lecturing, choosing to tune him out instead of paying attention. In the beginning, the fire ghoul did not like his new Cardinal, not one bit. He'd have gone so far as to claim hatred all those years ago. Copia weirded him out, with his self conscious, awkward demeanor and his odd way of speaking. It wasn't what the ghoul was used to and he hated change anyway; especially since his elemental change. So this was just not going to work. 

 

So he was just a little taken aback when Copia, completely exasperated and standing with his gloved hands placed on his hips, asked Dewdrop what he would like to have happen regarding their relationship; what he was looking for in a new leader. The little spitfire ghoul hadn't considered that aspect of this new change. He just disliked it that much that he decided the only way to combat it was to push back against it. Dew missed Terzo mostly; and his old pack. He missed glancing in the mirror to see silvery locks flowing like water across his shoulders. Or feeling the currents pass over his gills when the other water ghouls would take him to the lake. Dewdrop missed being beautiful. He'd spent a fair amount of nights with Terzo, melting into subtle compliments and touches that he just couldn't accept now. He hadn't felt beautiful in that closet with the new Cardinal, being asked such complex questions. 

 

Dew had actually broken then, dropping the sneer in favor of dropping tears instead. There were a number of shitty things that he'd judged as terrible that day, that hearing this man—this man who took away Dew's confidence; who Dew despised—asking so fervently about his opinions, that the ghoul just didn't know how to respond. 

 

Copia had also been quite surprised by Dew's reaction that he'd done what he deemed would be the best thing to help. The Cardinal gently whispered to the ghoul his actions as he did them; as he set his hands atop the ghoul's shoulders and applied gentle pressure to urge the creature to look at him. Copia would later admit to Dew of his heart swelling just a little at the look in his eyes. There was still the fiery brightness of hatred lingering there, but accompanying it was something like interest or an understanding. They'd reached even just a bit of a compromise, and Copia would be forever grateful for Dew's acceptance of him. 

 

Copia blinked out of his musing at the rumble of Aether's voice next; carouseling the information between the three of them.

 

“We understand that you've kinda got a lot going on right now, Papa,” He began and his hands embraced Copia's, claws sliding over leather with gentle creaks. The quint eyed the stacks of paper laid across Copia's desk with disdain. He had no clue why the man hadn't just hired a secretary already, since this clearly was not helping his already high stress levels. Copia huffed at the admission. “But, we don't know what else to do. We're dropping like flies down there, Copia,” Aether concluded in a whisper, squeezing his Papa's hands tightly. 

 

It was a bit of an understatement. They'd lost quite a large portion of their fighting population in the Pit. Ghouls from all elements had joined together—for once—to crush this opposition before they got wiped off the map permanently. Copia's own ghouls had lost family down there, crushed underneath a selfish leader and loyal souls who couldn't care less about any of them, and he hated to hear about their heartbreak after each pass through the circle. 

 

Copia detangled one of his hands to guide Aether's gaze up to his as he contemplated his next words. Obediently, but not without remorse, Aether followed his silent command; sizing up his emotions based on feeling alone. 

 

“If you all can promise your safeties,” He began and flicked glances at the other two as well, holding steady looks with the two of them before continuing. “And, obviously, my own. Then, eh, I do not see the issue,” A tiny smile, tired and reassuring, and Aether smiled too. 

 

The quint leaned over and placed a gentle kiss to the center of Copia's palm, nuzzling the tip of his nose between two of the pope's fingers. He breathed deeply, the puff of warm air permeating through the thick leather of Copia's glove. “I promise, Papa,” He whispered and finally stood up to face him head on. “I would lay down my soul if it meant you could live another day, Copia,” Aether crossed around the corner of the desk, hauling Copia to his feet and up close to his chest. “We all would,” Aether tacked on a bit hastily, a goofy smile spreading across his cheeks. 

 

There was a presence at his back and two hands caressing at his shoulders once more as another pair came to rest along his side, and Copia found himself grinning right back. 

 

Then, Aether dipped low and connected their lips together, slow and innocent, and the two other ghouls purred at the display. If it were a different scenario, Copia might've expected at least Swiss's drawn out whistle to echo next to his ear. But all he heard was the gentle purring from both him and Dew trembling across his back and side as the group embraced. 

 

They were gentle with him. They'd become like that as of late, becoming extra careful not to hurt the aging pope as they maneuvered him into whichever positions they saw fit; physical or mental. 

 

But their gentleness in that moment felt different than usual. There was no underlying yearning to feel the comforting slide of skin on skin, or hear the musical trills and sounds he knew they could all provide. There was just a gentle thrumming of adoration and love ; so strong that Copia felt tears spring to his eyes as he and Aether parted, though not very far, noses still brushing softly. It made him chuckle softly as the quintessence ghoul nuzzled up against his cheek, no doubt spreading white paint to the tip of his nose. 

 

“ Grazie , my lovely companions,” Copia whispered, tilting his head to the side as he felt thin lips brush against a healing mark there. He often tried to keep most of them concealed, but he paid it no mind if he just so happened to accidentally miss a couple; and he knew how much his demonic partners enjoyed seeing them. “I won't disappoint you,” Copia murmured and reached behind himself to cradle Swiss's head close to his own, smiling to himself as the ghoul's lips pressed gently into his hair and lingered; scenting him. 

 

Copia had been scented by all his ghouls multiple times, but he was always warmed by it each time; that they considered him pack enough to allow their presence to rub off on him for even just a couple days. Although, Aether's always lingered the longest, lasting for weeks; a testament to their devotion to each other. As well as the marking. Copia wore Aether's scars high up on his collar, punctures creating imperfect circles lining his collarbone and shoulders told those around him who had chosen him. They were a beautiful reminder of someone Copia would always come back to; as well as a reminder of his family. All of them, and he would wear them for as long as they would last, and then he'd get new ones in their place.

 

The light scrape of Dew's fangs across his throat brought him back to the present once more and he found himself arching into it, even just a little; and the answering prick wrung out a tiny yelp from the human. A yelp that the quint drank up with another press of his lips. 

 

And then the dam broke and Copia felt claws and teeth and purrs all around him. 

 

Truthfully not a terrible distraction from the stresses that had been popping up with more frequency as of late. Copia often wondered if it had anything to do with the conflicts his ghouls were now a part of. Whatever the cause, Copia was content to spend what little respite he might get with his ghouls; who worship him just as much as he does them. Hands dancing across his waist and arms, leading him blindly across the office to the sofa that would, hopefully, hold the four of them together. 

 

Copia supposed it should as it had held more of them if he remembered. He was proved correct as the group—gently—wrestled him to lay atop Aether's chest with Dew curled up over the headrest, not unlike a housecat; he had the temper of one sometimes. Swiss joined the trio near the pope's feet, laying his head across Copia's thigh. 

 

That gentle purring began once more and Copia found himself sinking further against Aether's vibrating chest, a soft hum of content twiddling past his lips as he relaxed further. A soft buzz filtered into his mind from, he assumed, Aether. It filled his mind and weighed down his limbs, creating a floaty sensation that Copia was all too familiar with; but he didn't mind it then. It was a nice way to forget for a while, and he was happy to do that with three of his partners. 

 

But they were still tensed around him, muscles pulled slightly taut in the arms caged around his shoulders; or in the tail squeezing his ankle. Copia chose to believe they were just nervous about the unknown; the other option was a bit too much to think about—that they might know how this would go. They seemed to hide quite a lot from him, shielding their Papa from more than he realized. 

 

Copia wasn't even sure what exactly they felt the need to shelter him from. But laying in a pile of limbs on the sofa in his office, he found he just didn't care. Death could stare him in the face and he would just lay down and take it if it meant he could stay there for just a few more minutes.

Notes:

Ok ok, next chapter might take a bit bc there's so much happening in it so far and I'm drowning in IB stuff atm. BUT I'm hoping to have it done near the beginning of the week next week, no promises though T^T.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this once more!

Chapter 3: 3

Notes:

Yall I'm so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for like a week. There were a ton of issues with an exam I needed to submit and I was working on scholarships along with that. Also, this chapter is quite long T^T
Anyway, enjoy Ghoulpia

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

The loud clacking of heels and claws on granite echoed across the walls as the group made their way down to the chapel. Nervous as always—but especially then—Copia fidgeted with his hands, tugging at the hems of his gloves or wiggling his fingers in an attempt to quell the shivering of his fingers. There was a simmering heat emanating from his chest that definitely wasn't just from Dew's hand pressing him forward from the back. Copia's heart raced in his chest, hammering so fast it might've well been a car engine; racing from zero to sixty in less than three seconds; racing so fast it might as well have one the world cup already. 

 

He took a deep, slightly quivering breath in through his nose; let it settle low in his lungs, tickling against his ribs at the inhale, before expelling it sharply—and his throat whistled with it as he did. If any of them noticed then they were kind enough to keep silent about his hyperactive nerves. Although, the tiny press of heated fingertips just below the curve of his neck was telling enough. 

 

It provided a momentary comfort, but one that Copia latched onto as the doors to the chapel approached. 

 

Like everything else in the Abbey, they were—for lack of a better term—very fucking old; carved in their mystery with stories from centuries ago, worshipping hands or vines like city streets all leading to Golden handles that Copia felt himself cringing away from. Oftentimes, Copia found himself there late at night, clutching the diamond petrine laced around his neck as he prayed fervently for his brothers. They spoke to him sometimes, whispering he just couldn't quite make out in the early hours of the morning; when he'd be hunched over a stack of paperwork that he could barely make out. He'd seen them as well, flickers rounding a corner that would disperse when he'd get there. Copia rarely knew what they were saying to him, but he knew they were calling for him—not at him. It was ominous and Copia often found himself awake, staring into his ceiling as if it might give him any answers. 

 

But it didn't, because they weren't really there. They couldn't really be there. 

 

Just like they weren't really standing in front of the chapel doors, his forever loyal ghouls stared expectantly at him to press forward and open the door. Copia took another steadying breath before he rested his hands on the golden handles. They seared through the fabric of his gloves, burning the metallic designs into the palms of his hands as he pressed down, jolting him out of his astral stupor; but upon looking down, there was nothing there and his hands were cold. He pushed the doors open with a great effort, a woosh of air past his head. 

 

The chapel was large, ornate, Gothic in its mysterious beauty. Pews seemed to stretch for miles, splitting down the middle to reveal the aisle. It was something Copia was too familiar with walking down. It had become somewhat of a comfort to hear the taps of his heels against the dark tiles; early in the morning, when there was no one else to bother his brooding. The ceilings stretched high above, conjoining to a single, carved beam adorned with lanterns all the way to the centerpiece of the chapel; the altar. 

 

There was a granite slab held up by four molded pillars, depicting figures as they struggled to hold their own against this oppressive force. Copia commonly used it for masses, preaching their sacrilegious teachings to pews covered in siblings and ghouls alike. He often wondered if there were still stains from rituals performed years prior embedded into the white granite. He'd just never looked. 

 

Adorning this granite table was an assortment of odd items. Some were recognizable to the Satanic pope as he gazed from the chapel doors; bowls filled with salts and spices and various knives and herbs sat nestled with books and crystals that Copia hadn't seen before. They glistened in the colored moonlight seeping through the stained glass windows, reflecting an inviting but ominous aura across the chapel. It was a beautiful gathering of objects. 

 

A hand on his back startled him back to the present, sharp claws tipping into his skin slightly. Most likely Aether then. Copia had noticed very early on in their coupling that the ghoul kept his claws fairly long; not as long as Rain's, but longer than Dew or Mountain. Maybe it was easier to work in the infirmary that way, Copia didn't know. Whatever the case was, the gentle press of Aether's claws was always a welcome feeling. 

 

“Are we gonna go or what?” Dew chirped and nudged against Copia's shoulder arms crossed protectively over his chest. Copia released a sharp sigh, skin prickling with nervous energy before he forced his feet forward; shoes clicking loudly in the silent room. The three ghouls behind him shared a look between them before following after him, falling into step a few paces behind. 

 

Placed, and standing silently, at the altar were the rest of Copia's ghouls, arranged in a semicircle around the altar table and all gazes fixed on the only human in the room as he slowly crept his way down the aisle. Copia felt small, like he did six years prior; these imposing figures all trained on him once more. Maybe it would've been frightening, but Copia was already frightened enough thinking about what exactly this would entail that he wasn't thinking of his lovely ghouls as the demons they truly were. 

 

When he was younger and had just met them, he'd lay awake at night wrestling with his feelings; fear, interest, affection, anger. Sister had insisted Copia to summon at least most—hopefully all, but he couldn’t bear the thought of denying the three oldest another chance to perform—of his band. The ritual was not very hard to perform; he’d done it before after one of Sister’s ghouls had fallen very ill. She’d have done it herself, but—as she so often did—she requested Copia fill her shoes for it. 

 

Not being a particularly taxing procedure, Copia found himself in an odd and slightly frightening—at least thinking about it now—state of bliss as he finished it, standing inside the large symbol with a heaving chest and weak knees, a new ghoullette mirroring him from the other half of the circle. It was a bit of an unforgettable experience and for weeks after that, Copia found himself dreaming of performing another, just to experience that feeling again. Maybe it was akin to a drug addiction; except for the fact that he couldn’t actually perform the ritual without confirmation from the Clergy first. But still, he thought about it for months.  

 

So when Sister Imperator approached him soon after his appointment to frontman to inquire about another summoning ritual, Copia jumped at the opportunity; ecstatic and practically exploding with it. So, it was set to be done the next evening and Copia found he couldn’t sleep that night, thinking just about that odd feeling once more; And as he began the incantations and now familiar steps of the ritual, Copia found himself hot, burning from his core to his skin; prickling with it even as he danced about the circle. It was pleasant but different and he stalled for a moment. Then, the familiar and lovely rush of energy soared through him and he fell to his knees with it, left eye pulsing and straining against the confines of its socket as he roared out with feelings he couldn’t put a name to. His body felt as if it might melt away, leaving just a sphere of energy in its wake, thumping with everything he had to offer. When it was over and the fire quelled, there stood five more ghouls, his ghouls, all imposing with fiery gazes cast at the Cardinal struggling to his knees, face stained with lines of paint and tears and a satisfied yet exhausted grin stretched across his face.

 

Looking upon them, Copia felt a twinge of fear and he shrunk slightly into himself. They boxed him in with their gazes, studying their summoner as he collected himself enough to speak to them with a shaking voice. They continued to just…stare as he explained who he was and why they’d been summoned. And they continued to stare even as Copia ushered them to their quarters, glowing gazes filling him with a strange sort of dread. 

 

But they interested him. He’d only really conversed with their species on the off chance his brothers needed him to; or, of course, with Special, but Copia hardly counted him as a ghoul as the demon never removed his glamour. Whatever the reason was; Copia just didn’t bother asking. 

 

But his ghouls had certainly captured his attention, as they were currently, arms folded and stances wide as they waited for him to join them. Swiss advanced to join them, passing Copia with a reassuring smile and a soft bump of his shoulder before placing himself around the circle. Aether and Dew stayed behind him for a moment and Copia caught them whispering to each other, a bit agitated. 

 

“ You go ahead, Aeth. I, um, wanted to talk to him for a second,” Copia caught, sneaking a secretive glance over his shoulder to watch the pair. They stood about as close as usual, practically touching; but Dew seemed especially on edge, shoulders hunched and ears flared back as they whispered to each other. 

 

Aether eyed the pope, flicking his gaze between him and Dew. There was a bit of suspicion laced within his eyes as they flared before he nodded. The ghoul placed a gentle hand on Dew’s shoulder and pressed his lips against the shorter ghoul’s forehead before continuing to the altar, leaving his two mates standing awkwardly in the aisle of the chapel. 

 

“Papa,” Dew began, stalling to take a breath. “Are you…sure you wanna do this?” Copia approached the ghoul carefully, clocking his microexpressions of perhaps guilt. “Because you don’t need to, you know,” Dew continued, arms crossed defensively over his chest even as his posture softened just a little as Copia came to rest in front of him. The pope gently grasped Dew’s hands, the leather of his gloves creaking as the ghoul’s claws scraped over them. 

 

“Dewdrop,” Copia addressed with a gentle sigh, no malice, just fatigue. He thought about his words for a moment. Truthfully, Copia was still unsure about this, anxiety tickling at his stomach like worms. Seeing it done was one thing—and he hadn’t even been there for that—he couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of that. But he’d lay down his soul for his ghouls, and if it took this to ensure they got to live, then he’d accept it a million times over. 

 

“I just don’t want you to go through with this and end up regretting it later,” He interrupted and a flare of smoke puffed out from his nose, curling around Copia’s neck to ultimately dissipate as quickly as it had appeared. The ghoul released a deep and shuddering sigh before finally lifting his eyes to meet that mismatched gaze he loved so much. His mind swam with questions about what his Papa might turn into: Would he be fire? Water? Some unholy combination of elements like Swiss and Aurora? How would his hands and feet change? What might his eyes look like? Dew zeroed onto that specific question as he gazed into Copia’s soul; staring like he might be able to memorize his eyes before they changed too fast. 

 

A small smile pulled at the painted corners of Copia’s lips and Dew found himself scowling up at him. How dare he find this funny, the ghoul was terrified for him, and Copia was grinning at him. Rationally, Dew recognized this smile as the one Copia wore before he attempted to settle the fire ghoul, and he found himself more accepting of that than he wished to admit. Accepting enough to allow his Papa to gather him up in his arms, petting a leather hand through the ghoul’s long hair.

 

“You are scared, my ghoul, no?” Copia whispered, breath coasting across Dew’s pointed ear. The ghoul in question growled low in his chest at the question. Dew didn’t ‘get scared’. He was a strong and imposing ghoul, he didn't have the room to get scared of anything. At least, that’s the persona he wished to present to anyone else. Truthfully, he awoke quite often with nightmares and hallucinations that he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Memories of his transformation mostly. The feeling of his gills burning away never truly left his mind and he, even almost seven years later, still felt around for his gills or the webbing between his fingers only to be met with scarred and hot flesh instead. It ignited a sense of hatred deep inside him targeted at really no one in particular, but it was there nonetheless and Dew found himself puffing smoke and flames more often. He’d accidentally set more than a few things aflame around the Abbey as of late and he found himself sitting uncomfortably across from Copia as he was gently, but firmly scolded for his misgivings each time. 

 

Dew did know better, but when did Copia ever know him to take the morally responsible route? But those accidents were sort of out of his control. He didn’t understand where this boiling rage emanated from, just that he had to snuff it out; and it seemed that the only way he knew how was with force, so that’s what he did, and it helped…if only for a couple days. Then it would seep back into his mind again, worming its way uncomfortably through his thoughts until it was all he could think about; and Dew would act out of force and the cycle would repeat once more. And it, although Dew did not figure this out until later, stemmed from his personal fears about quite a lot of things; his future, his mates. Mostly the unknown. He did not enjoy being uninformed about things, and that frightened him.  

 

“...no,” He responded, although his voice sounded about as small as he felt. Copia could’ve laughed aloud at such an obvious lie. The poor ghoul was practically trembling in his arms and Copia tightened his grasp just a bit more. 

 

“I'm scared too,” Copia admitted. His fingers twisted into Dewdrop's hair, mapping out the strands carefully as he glided his hand down through them. “But, eh, sometimes you just gotta look it straight between the eyes and give it a good kick in the ass, si?” Dew snorted and lifted his head up, eyes swirling with something brighter and Copia's heart fluttered just looking at him. “Maybe with a bit of bravado ?” Copia grinned with an obscene flourish of his hand, voice purring on the ‘r’.

 

“You're so weird,” Dew teased. Copia felt the hot tickle of the ghoul's tail brush across his shinbone and he shuddered softly. Copia shrugged in response and Dew swore he could see the pink flush even through the pope's grease paint; could practically feel the warmth radiating through their bond and any other day he would pretend he hated it. But at that moment, it was all he could do to return that smile with one of his own; toothy and equally as cheeky, but it was more than Copia could have asked for. 

 

“Yes, eheh, maybe I am,” Copia giggled, stepping back slightly to lace their fingers together. “But we all are, no?” There was a flush of determination that raced past Dew, almost knocking him over with its bravado, and he knew there was going to be no room for argument after that. “Now, no more tears, my lovely ghoul,” He whispered and knocked their foreheads together gently. 

 

That was something Dew had noticed him doing as of late. It was pack behavior, and he wondered if it was a conscious thing. Dew had noticed more and more of his own behaviors reflecting in his mate, the scenting—although Copia was unable to actually transfer anything—the marking. Dew swore he'd heard him purr a few times, although that might’ve just been a simple jest. Either way, Dew was both surprised and pleased that the pack’s subconscious instincts had begun to rub off on their summoner as his did with them. 

 

With a simple swipe of leather across Dew's cheek, Copia concluded with: “Let's go get this done and then you can whisk me away and we can go cry about this later,” It wasn't dismissive in nature, but it sure shut Dew up and he nodded his assent. Copia smiled down at him one more time and the paint around his eyes flaked slightly, revealing the slightly pinkish layer beneath. Sliding their hands together, the pair continued down the aisle to join the group. 

 

“Okie dokie,” Copia clapped his hands together, standing tall at the head of the circle. “Let's get this done, shall we?” The group collectively agreed, fanning out to their respective elements. 

 

There was a tense silence as the group watched Copia prepare the altar, organizing the tools required. He stalled, however, as his hands glided over a heap of chain, loops attached to the ends of the metal ropes. Inspecting further, he found script written across the insides of the shackles but he'd never seen it before and couldn't make it out in the darkness of the chapel. Copia cast a questioning glance over his shoulder, meeting Swiss's swirling eyes. 

 

“You asked us to keep you safe,” He murmured, eyes trained on the shackles. That was all he was given, but it was enough for him and he began to prepare himself. 

 

Beginning with the gloves, Copia inhaled a grounding breath before he slid off one hand, revealing the scarred flesh underneath. It was a sight Copia was not fond of in the slightest, hence the gloves; and he often conveniently forgot to remove them before he slept, or maybe there was a second pair he just kept hidden. 

 

It happened during one of his late night strolls through the gardens; Primo's gardens, naturally. They were one of his favorite parts of the grounds. Their sprawling vines and bushels of various flowers were a calmness he'd not found elsewhere. 

 

Copia had decided that night to stop by a clearing in the forest he'd frequented only a handful of times as he'd just not had the time to go. He barely had the time to take a walk this late anyway. 

 

The walk through the forest was familiar and he found himself with his eyes closed and steps light, almost dancing past bushes and valleys before reaching the natural arch into the clearing. Nearing late October, there were no leaves on the branches and they extended like crooked hands beckoning Copia further past the wide open maw it presented to him. 

 

A large willow tree stood like a statue in the center of the clearing, empty branches swaying gently in the light breeze that whipped past the area. It was a macabre sort of beautiful, extending itself over to Copia without arms; calling without a voice, like a siren. Carved into the trunk of the tree were tens of little messages from who knows how long ago, sprawling as far up the tree as anyone dared to climb. Copia had spent many nights tracing the outlines of the most faded ones, trying to decipher the meanings as he had done with so many Latin texts in his office. 

 

It was his favorite hidden gem to sit under and just…be; be without the incessant chattering of the lovely Siblings in the hall or of Special practically attached to his hip. He could just detach from himself there and float away, like the hemlock he sometimes spotted floating across the small stream near the front of the Abbey. 

 

It was about as close to true peace Copia could get, and he was thankful he had a bit of spare time to relish in it that night. 

 

Life had been good to him lately, hectic of course, but good. It was troubling him as he waited for the inevitable end to his good luck streak. And it did end, just not where he would've ever expected it to, and certainly not in the way it did. 

 

Copia was a holy man—or unholy depending on the way it's looked at—devoted solely to his church, his family. He'd often spend his downtime in deep prayer, begging for answers; to know what was wrong with him. Murmurs could always be heard from the chapel late at night and his figure was always present at the altar, hands clasped tight at his chest. 

 

Multiple times Copia had felt a presence nearby, pressing unconscious answers into his chest and he'd fall asleep in tears of understanding. He'd been touched many times, a few times burned with the scars to show it, but they never amounted to anything other than the feeling that he had the answers he was seeking. 

 

But that night, as he slowly began to doze against the trunk of the willow tree, he felt it once again. That distant static that tickled at his sternum and traveled down to his stomach, like drinking something cold on a hot day; and Copia smiled to himself. It was rare that they approached him, more often he’d spend hours begging for anything. Sometimes he felt similar to some amateur ghost hunters, sitting alone and pleading for ‘a sign’ of anything. But it was always a lovely surprise when he’d get propositioned. 

 

Even so, something was different about this. That tingling traveled all the way up his arms and stopped at the center of each palm, sizzling there for a moment. It was strange and Copia found himself staring at his naked palms for a moment before a wicked sense of dread filled his brain. Something wasn’t right about this. This was something new; someone new, and Copia didn’t like who they were at all. 

 

And his suspicions were confirmed as emanating from the centers of his palms were two bright lights; golden and sparkling with something unknown. They were beautiful, if not a bit hard to look at and Copia tore his eyes away, shielding himself from potential permanent damage. Copia had become fearful of this sensation, his hands now freezing and not just from the autumn air. They felt frostbitten, joints aching even as he flexed and wiggled them. The cold traveled up his arms as well, circling his wrists in odd places and settling in his veins as it raced up his flesh; leaving faint white tendrils behind, embedded into his skin. 

 

They burned to the touch despite feeling so frigid and he found himself cringing inwards at the feeling, like a million tiny paper cuts slicing their ways through his epidermis. His hands were the worst, however. They burned white hot, it was a miracle they hadn’t caught fire yet, and Copia found his voice hoarse as he cried out. Had he been doing that all along? He didn’t notice if he had, too focused on the intense pain radiating up his arms. His hands attempted to clench, trying to snuff out the twin flames nestled in his palms before any more damage might be done. But there was no use, as his hands stayed open despite his best efforts and all he could do was wait for it to end. 

 

It wasn’t a moment Copia particularly preferred to think about. But, like Dew’s anger, it always crawled its way back into his mind and festered a home for itself there. He shook his head softly and set his gloves down neatly on the altar table, choosing not to look too hard at his hands. Bare fingers slid over the lapels of his blue sequin jacket, shrugging it slowly from his shoulders and taking great care to fold it nicely as it was one of his favorites. He’d had it commissioned a couple years prior along with his other colorful jackets, truthfully just because he wanted them; tastefully selfish, but he was okay with that once every so often. 

 

“Papa?” A gentle voice and a gentler hand landed on his shoulder and Copia startled out of his musings. “Sorry, but, are you sure you're good to go?” Cumulus soothed, lightly squeezing his shoulder as she turned him away from the altar table. The group stared back at him once more, glowing in their own ways as they radiated uncertainty. Meeting each face, Copia dropped his tensed shoulders and released a sharp and loud sigh. 

 

“Uh…yes, si. Let's get this done,” He concluded and advanced with Cumulus to the center of the circle, the click of his heels being the only noise inside the chapel. He was becoming more and more nervous; he could feel it in the shivering of his breaths as he stood rigid in the center of the sigil, the pounding of his heart near deafening to his ears. 

 

But Copia was nothing if not committed, at least in something like this. He'd cut himself open and rip out that beating heart if it would help at all. Maybe it was similar to the anticipation of getting an injection, the quick ramp up to the top as eyes lock onto the needle. Copia exhaled sharply, he just needed to minimize it. Yes, of course. 

 

But it was becoming increasingly harder as the clinking of the chains secured around his ankles, locking him to the ground. His knees shook just slightly as Aether and Swiss guided him to his knees; he blamed it on his age even as his knees did not crack this time. 

 

Copia had become more aware of his physical pain lately, the creaking of his joints when he'd get out of bed in the morning, the aches in his back from hours of writing over his desk. There was a constant throb in the back of his skull, pulsing dimly despite the—probably unhealthy—amount of painkillers he'd prescribed for himself. It had become slightly maddening lately and Copia found himself increasingly unable to work to the best of his ability because he was always thinking about that dull pain. 

 

But he wasn't thinking about that now, too focused on the coldness of the metal around his ankles and wrists and the hardness of the granite beneath him; grounding even as his mind spun out of control as he watched his companions continue to shuffle about the altar table in front of him. 

 

They were slow and methodical in their movements, making sure their backs covered the expanse of their workspace; shielding him from whatever they might be doing. He was grateful then, choosing to regulate his quickening breaths before they started to get out of hand. 

 

“Alright, Copia,” Aether murmured as he kneeled in front of his shackled mate. “ Now , it's go time,” The ghoul offered a smile, slightly forced, but it was there and Copia smiled too. Aether leaned forward and nuzzled against Copia's cheek, and the dark pope felt a small zing sizzle across his cheek. It calmed his heart just a little and he found himself turning to catch Aether's mouth in a small kiss, laughing softly as Aether's tail swished quickly behind him. 

 

The set up was the worst part at that point; the waiting for whatever unknown mutilation was waiting for him. But, as he listened to his group of ghouls begin their chanting, Copia noticed nothing was happening. He was in one piece; whole as the day he was born and he was confused. There was a stillness, the voices of the group drowned out to a distant mumble as Copia kneeled there hyperventilating. 

 

He couldn't quite place why he felt so suddenly anxious, nerves on fire as his stomach turned. An odd feeling overtook him, sending his body running hotter than he thought possible. It was troubling, like a hot flash, but he'd never had one—that he remembered—before, and Copia found himself helplessly pulling at his restraints as it just got hotter; burning at his knees still pressed into the would-be coldness of the granite flooring, and a strange sort of fire flared around him, illuminating the circle and everything inside it. 

 

Copia wasn't someone to experience claustrophobia very often; he in fact quite enjoyed smaller spaces because it allowed him an escape. But on the floor, he felt instantly small and shuddered as the group continued. 

 

Their eyes were all shut tight; whether it was because they had to or just didn't want to see, Copia didn't know. But he found himself not caring enough about that as his skin sizzled once more. It was overwhelmingly odd, sparking up from under his clothes and feeding through the threads of his shirt to pop in the air like little fireworks. It mesmerized him for a short moment as he stared at the orange and purple sparks emanating from seemingly everywhere across his body. They reminded him of little fireflies landing and lifting off of him, and it was lovely to watch for that brief little respite before the ritual continued. Because, as he watched rapt, the clothes around him began to shift, rustling and steaming it seemed with whatever was happening to the skin underneath.

 

As he continued to kneel there, yelping and whining at the throbbing in his head, something thin and small began to slither over the back of his waistband; tickling the base of his spine as it twitched and curled behind him. It settled by his right thigh, twitching and swaying periodically. The tail was a dark shade of red, striped with a muted lavender and possessed a triangular tip that slashed at the meat of his thigh with twitch. Copia stared in awe at the new appendage. He felt that he could not control it, like it had a mind of its own; and Copia shuddered at it. 

 

But it only got worse in the coming moments. His head still throbbed and Copia doubled into himself, shackled hands attempting to scratch up at his temples. They itched like bed bugs and Copia swore he felt something crawling under his skin, skittering and scratching at his skull. Copia whimpered and yanked against his restraints, scrambling to get to his hair. A subtle warmth dripped down the left side of his face and slid across his neck, coating the paint on his face with a thin streak of red. 

 

Copia loosed a wretched wail at the splitting of his skin, yanking hard at the binds around his wrists. Bone pointed through his temples; two short, white points growing into horns—glowing dimly in the still illuminated circle. Copia released a soft and quivering sigh of relief at the momentary break and hung his head close to his chest. He breathed deep, chest shuddering at the sharp points of pain all over his body. 

 

Copia lifted his gaze, scanning the faces of his ghouls still surrounding him. They all appeared so stoic, almost calm. They'd stopped their chanting at some point, hands still clasped in front of their bodies. Most of them appeared expressionless, faces set in a neutral stance. Although, Copia did see Dew's brow furrow and noticed the tense way his shoulders hunched. But the ghoul otherwise seemed unbothered. 

 

Copia focused on the fire ghoul's pointed features, the sharp contours of his cheekbones and the dark shadows cast across his neck and shoulders from the moonlight. He'd spent many nights tracing those points, gliding fingertips or lips or a brush across them; memorizing them all over again. 

 

There were a lot of things Copis admired about his lead guitarist, but his unique design was one of his favorites. He'd complimented the ghoul many times about his looks, but Copia had always thought he could stare for the rest of his life and still be amazed. Dew always caught his attention anywhere they were; whether it be on stage or in his office, Copia was always looking. 

 

But he was unable to stare for long as his head began to throb once again and he whimpered in anticipation. He jerked again in his constraints as two other points of bone sliced through his temples to join the first. However, these two only continued to grow, sliding over the curve of his head to ultimately curl near the crown of his skull. 

 

Copia wailed again, muscles tensed as he screamed and howled. His throat felt raw and his chest shuddered as a low and deep growl rumbled past his lips. Odd, and Copia jolted at the sound, glancing up to see who made it. 

 

Upon looking up, Copia felt a rush of something strange. Spikes of fear tickled at his brain, zinging up his arms and legs like lightning as he stared with wide eyes. He recognized the group, of course he did, but they all seemed so scary; huge and imposing. It brought up deep set feelings he'd not felt for many years, and Copia hated that. 

 

He rumbled again, jaw set as the circle began to dim and his ghouls opened their eyes. Copia hissed as one of them approached, newly formed pointed ears pinned back against his head. 

 

“Hey, whoa,” Swiss cursed softly and halted, continuing forward with more caution than before. “It's just us, Copia,” He murmured, shoulders drooping at the intense glare painted across his Papa's painted face. He looked so horrified of them, mismatched eyes now turned two new colors of red and purple. Swiss stared at them for a moment before reaching out his hands to unclasp Copia's restraints. 

 

The ghoul didn't get far however as Copia lurched at him, fanged mouth wide as he snapped his teeth at the ghoul. A low growl and a hiss tittered past Copia's lips, brow set downward in a mix of fear and anger. 

 

It was an odd and worrying display, and the group of ghouls shared a look of concern. They'd all become hesitant to figure out how to calm him down or to deal with whatever had just happened for fear that it would only make things worse. 

Notes:

Trying to pace myself when writing this clearly isn't working in my favor :sobbing:
It ok.
K bye

Chapter 4: 4

Notes:

I'M SO SORRY FOR DROPPING FOR A WEEK!!
There was a huge issue at school I had to take care of, and on top of that I had to go to the ER (fanfic curse frfr)
I made a playlist to listen to while reading: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NngQfQZS3aVQCiZ2lg4hO?si=ccyBuZwQQAy1I3wy1tpDww

Go listen to it, all songs have a meaning to the story here. Happy Reading!

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

Fear was something Copia had been quite familiar with over the course of his life. He'd spent many years running from things he couldn't escape from; they'd always find a way to crawl back inside his head again. The relentless pounding behind his eyes was a constant lately, clouding his sight with black spots and dizziness. 

 

As it was then, pulsing at his left eye like a brand while his chest vibrated in a deep and far away rumble. He felt it rattle in his bones and Copia trembled where he kneeled. It was weird. Copia knew he was causing the noise—even touching at the center of his chest as far as the restraints around his wrists would allow—but he felt detached from it; from everything happening around him actually. 

 

There were faces around him he wasn't able to create in his mind, as if they'd been wiped metaphorically; Copia could see their features, just couldn't seem to place why he remembered them. It was a bit horrifying to be surrounded by these mysterious creatures. Copia could feel their deep gazes; could feel the intensity of each of their looks. The two kneeling to his front and right shared a slightly alarming look, purple eyes casting a faint glow into an abyss staring back. Mesmerizing. 

 

Even more so as Copia found himself boring into that pair of purple eyes. They swam with anxiety and perhaps regret—Copia couldn't decipher the subtle glint in his growing nervousness—and Copia responded with his own hard-set glare as his eyes blazed with fire. Copia's body tingled with lightning, racing hot over his arms and crackling past the tips of his horns. 

 

Fear was something he was used to. But Copia hadn't been so viscerally terrified in, well, really ever. He'd often prided himself on his avoidance of any “real” scary situations, reserving himself alone to mitigate any chance of truly needing to fear for his life again. But kneeling on the chapel floor, bound by wrist—but no longer ankle—to the floor, Copia felt that he might die from a heart attack as he stared into two points of lavender. There was an uncomfortable knot that had formed in the depths of his stomach, twisting and pulling as his heart thumped worryingly fast against his ribcage. Copia'd had his fair share of panic attacks throughout his lifetime; and this one wasn't a huge surprise, but he'd usually have a safety blanket to lean on when something like this happened. In his haze, Copia just couldn't place any of those beings as being his, and that only worried him more. 

 

“Get him out of there, Aeth,” A voice pierced the silence of the chapel; apart from, obviously, Copia's crescendoing rumbling. It carried a gentle, but overall stern, tone; floating over Copia's pointed ears, and he could practically see the musical score of it as the ghoul in front of him moved to follow the command. Which, of course, Copia had not paid attention to. So, as two hands came forward to reach for his shackled wrists, Copia reared back with a warning shriek before jolting forward, teeth bared and mouth wide to latch onto that arm and hopefully dislodge its advances toward him. 

 

Copia's jaw snapped shut with a loud crack and he winced softly at the jolt of pain it sent shooting throughout the lower half of his face. Disregarding that, Copia reset his expression to a glare once more and a hiss slithered past his lips again, forked tongue flicking once or twice in an oddly innocent display of anger. If he wasn't just threatened, Aether might've smiled at his partner's subconscious attempt at authority. But he was just threatened and he responded instinctively. Aether growled softly in return, ears pinned back tight against his skull as lightning crackled across his skin. 

 

Sensing a physical altercation, Cirrus decided to put a stop to it before it began. Her thin fingers closed across Aether's right shoulder, claws digging into his shirt deep enough to grab his attention. A short, stern, and overall intimidating look was sent Aether's way and the large ghoul bowed his head and trilled lowly. 

 

Unreceptive to this ghoulette's authority, Copia's chest began a deep growl once more and he similarly flashed the sharp points of his teeth up at her. Truthfully, Cirrus couldn't help but feel bad for him. He looked so helpless; trembling like a captured animal. In a way, Cirrus supposed he was. She'd figured the restraints would be unnecessary when Swiss had first brought them out; calling them inhumane—in- ghoul -mane?—for even suggesting something so serious. But in that moment, even she couldn't deny their usefulness and Cirrus hoped one day her Papa might forgive them for that. Certainly there would be bruises and she would later—when she could get him alone—spend quite a few hours tending to bruises that had since healed and whispering apology after apology until Copia would need to speak up and remind her of his consent. 

 

It was a treasured thing that often pulled Copia away from the darker areas of his mind when he neglected his paperwork. For all the composed bravado Cirrus personified, Copia and the others had all seen her softer side—the one who embodied quite a few of Cumulus’s traits as Copia had come to realize. He figured that might happen for the pair eventually. They did spend an unholy amount of time together. 

 

But Cirrus couldn't provide sympathy—she could, and she wanted to, but she had to deal with Copia's reluctance first—right then, as Copia appeared still too worked up to approach period. 

 

Another deafening snap of teeth brought her attention back to him as he eyed her outstretched wrist. Cirrus gasped and, mostly offended by Copia's utter audacity, she slowly bent forward to meet his eyes; movements calculated in their intensity. Her gaze was sharp and angry, blue eyes icy in their disposition as they bore into Copia's mismatched glare. The new ghoul shrunk slightly into himself as Cirrus emitted a deep and powerful rumble, fangs poking out in a deep sneer. 

 

Copia's eyes widened considerably, casting bright rays of lavender and orange across Cirrus's hard-set jaw. Noticeably startled and really just all around freaked out, Copia whimpered loudly and—to the group's resounding shock—flipped onto his back and bared his stomach up at Cirrus. 

 

An instinctual kit behavior that the others hadn't thought would transfer to their front man. This was just supposed to be a transformation ritual…Well, now that got them thinking. Mostly Aether and Cirrus. But a few of the others had caught onto their realizations as well. If they had planned on rearranging Copia's base DNA—even just a little—to transform him into a hybrid animal, then wouldn't that also transform evolutionary traits? Uncanny valley in humans is an evolutionary trait, although Aether hadn't the faintest idea where it came from and he was older than the idea of a human. 

 

Copia's apparent submissiveness was also an evolutionary trait; a slightly adorable, slightly alarming one, but a learned trait nonetheless. Alarming because now the group would need to deal with a third “kit”. Aurora had proved herself to not be a huge issue, perhaps it was the amount of time she spent with Cirrus and Cumulus that helped. The girls were usually more receptive to Copia's gentle demands than the boys. Copia had always appreciated that. Phantom was a different matter. He—and Aurora, although she was noticeably more mature mentally than Phantom—was very young infernally. Although he didn't know exactly, the ghoul had guesstimated under a few centuries. Still classified as a “kit” but perhaps more on the late teen side than prepubescent. 

 

Copia didn't think he'd ever met another ghoul with as much energy as Phantom. Maybe Dew, but the fire ghoul was aging more and more each day; muscles tensed and aching for longer periods of time after a show. His fingers had become slower as well, reaching quite hard to maintain his bravado throughout a tour. It was a glaring insecurity Dew often faced alone instead of sharing it with even just Copia, who would never judge him for something like that. Satan knows Copia held his own fair share of aging issues; if the constant pounding in his head or the increasing slowness in his movements had anything to say. But Dew preferred to portray himself as strong and rebellious. What sort of rebel had to calm protesting joints in a heated bath practically every night, Dew didn't know and had not heard of. But the others didn't need to know, especially not Aether or Copia. Dew didn't need them fawning over him after a show or whatever future this route would lead them to. 

 

Dew was fine. That's all they needed to know. 

 

Despite his aging condition, Dew was apparently still just as capable of training mischief as he was 7 years ago. Copia had a sinking feeling that leaving the pair alone might bite him in the ass later. 

 

He was right…Multiple times. 

 

If controlling Dew's uncooperative personality was a struggle before, then adding another on top of that had to be torture. Copia would flop his way back to his bed—which had really become a shared between him and Aether at that point—grumbling about how many new gray hairs would appear on his head that day. Aether would always chuckle at his pessimism and encourage his Papa to understand Phantom’s ways of encouragement. 

 

It had taken Copia quite a long time to gather each ghoul's response to a command and he was sure he'd figured them all out; so learning Phantom and Aurora shouldn't have been that difficult, and it wasn't. For the most part, but Dewdrop's constant egging didn't exactly give him any favors either. 

 

But the new summons had been conquered, mostly. But now the group had a new packmate they needed to learn all over again. It was unclear then, as the head of the church lay splayed open on the chapel floor, if any of his reinforcement behaviors would stick, or if he would become someone completely different. There was especially no way to tell if Copia couldn't recognize any of them as appeared to be the case. 

 

Despite baring himself to the ghoulette, Copia's eyes still swam with terrified tears; a few of which spilled down his temples in a slow, beautifully agonizing drag. Like dropping an aurora into a lake, those tears glowed just as bright. Purple and fiery orange mixed to create a swirl of blue that disappeared into the singer’s mousy hairline. Aether had seen his fair share of colored tears before, but certainly none like that. The only hybrid he'd really come across was Swiss and the multi's tears were black, only emitting a faint white light on certain occasions. Copia's, however, shone bright against even his painted skin, illuminating the surrounding area in short bursts of red, blue, or lavender. Aether couldn't help but slowly reach out and swipe up a few onto the tip of his finger, which the new hybrid allowed, but not without an involuntary rumble of disapproval. 

 

Okay, they were getting somewhere. Progress; small, but still progress. 

 

As Aether inspected the droplets laid on his claw, Cirrus slowly and quietly kneeled at Copia’s crown before whispering softly, “Hey hun, shh. Don't get up,” Cirrus silenced his fussing with two gentle hands on his shoulders as Copia made a move to sit up. “I know. I know this is…frightening, yeah?” Copia whined low in his throat, but nodded anyway. His hands shook near his waist, rattling the chains still attaching him to the tile. “Can you answer some questions for me? I won't touch you anymore than this alright?” 

 

The group held a collective deep breath before hearing a quiet and shy, “...Okay,” from their leader. 

 

“Good, that's good,” Cirrus cast a gentle smile his way and twittered at the soft preen that surrounded him. “Alright, do you know who you are?” A nod. 

 

“Copia Emeritus,” He murmured, sliding his gaze around the circle. His voice sounded hoarse, shot or used up in an odd way. His eyes landed on the short fire ghoul to his left, glowing from a small point at the center of his chest and standing obviously anxious. A small flash of recognition traveled over the space between them. It tingled at Copia’s nose like cotton before he breathed deep and focused hard. He'd realized why this group felt familiar when he opened his eyes just a couple minutes prior; could feel it now, the unmistakable electricity of a bond. Like walking through a dark hallway, doors on all sides. 

 

How could he ever forget his ghouls? His partners. They were special to him in ways he would never be able to name. His precious Dew, staring so worriedly at him. It hurt his heart to see, squeezing at it with a great force until he could will himself to speak up again. 

 

“My lovely ghouls,” He whispered, the timbre of it scratching at even his own ears. It hurt to speak up, the tension scratching at his throat like his rats at their cages. It felt as if he'd been burned there. Well, he was. His injuries hadn't occurred to him until just then, too focused on these odd but familiar beings surrounding him to even begin to worry about the superheated scorches digging into his body; filled and wired up with adrenaline until then. 

 

It was a very odd feeling as the rush drained away like the last drops of a particularly tasty lemonade down the consumer's throat. However, Copia felt that a lemonade at that point would only issue even deeper damage. He grasped for just a bit more zing to push away the growing pain across his body. Satanas, his head hurt; could feel something sluggish and warm crawling down the sides of his head and Copia could only think it to be his own blood, which was a scary thought to have. There were— from what he could see with his head still laying on the heated tile—puffs of maybe steam or smoke circling into the air above them to ultimately dissipate into faint curls before fading completely. Mesmerizing, but equally terrifying as Copia could very much feel where each cloud emanated from, and it hurt very much. 

 

How could I forget you? Copia wished vehemently to speak the words out loud, but it seemed that he'd used up his allotted word quota for the time being. The bond felt more intimate, maybe that was a good thing. 

 

A resounding cheer echoed throughout the chapel, bouncing off the stained glass and the altar to tickle Copia's newly pointed ears pleasantly, and he smiled bright. The gentle caresses of clawed and animalistic hands across his burned body hurt terribly, and Copia longed to just feel them all again. But the paint outweighed the pleasure then and Copia yelped painfully. 

 

Please don't touch. He cried, pretty orange tears sliding down his temples again. Hurtss… The hands retracted regretfully and Copia whined at the loss. He really was sort of a mess. 

 

“I think,” Aether began, voice forcefully casual. “You should rest up in the infirmary,” He chuckled softly at Copia’s resistance. “It'll be okay, Nightingale. I'll be your doctor again, okay? That work for you?” The hybrid snorted from his perch on the floor but nodded anyway, two thick streams of smoke puffing out his nose. 

 

…fine. Copia relented. In the back of his muddled mind he knew he needed medical attention, desperately; and if Aether was giving it, then who was he to decline that? 

 

But of course, Copia wouldn't have minded laying there for just a bit longer. Just to rest his body, maybe close his eyes for a second. Yes, that's what he'd do. Just rest for a bit longer before he'd even let any of them touch him. And naturally, that rest would definitely be interrupted by his pack's anxious prodding. But, he didn't think about that right then. All Copia wanted was for the burning pain of his skin to stop for just enough time to fall asleep; just long enough to think about how to handle it when it came back. 

 

Maybe this subtle defiance was just a ghoulish trait he'd inherited. Compliance was always an issue with him, and the group had begun to worry if that was going to get worse now that Copia had been turned into a kit. It was difficult to tell if that was just because Copia hated the infirmary with his whole heart, or if it truly was his fiery element. 

 

Dew certainly appeared to find his mate's laziness amusing; if the soft snort was anything to go by. But the others could still feel Dew's radiating nerves, burning red hot and nearly visible in the subtle crackles of his horns. 

 

It seemed the group was alive with lightning that night, short bursts of blue or purple or red appearing through the air. Life filtered through the air. A lingering sense of despair, as if they'd done something wrong—broken some absurd law—hung in the air.

 

But with it, a gentle hint of triumph, like the smell of a bountiful harvest or the rush of adrenaline on a roller coaster. They'd done it. Truly done the impossible and changed a human into a hybrid. It was incredible. 

 

And Copia couldn't be more proud of them all.

Notes:

One again, I apologize for dropping this for a week with no updates; I was very sick.
Posting every Tuesday
K bye

Chapter 5: 5

Notes:

Greetings, apologies for dipping again T^T I got tied up in designing my ritual jacket that I forgot to finish writing this chapter lol.
Once again, here's the spotify link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NngQfQZS3aVQCiZ2lg4hO?si=wXbcuV1pS3iMQuS0Dd7NOw
This is a longer chapter (almost 5k words), so happy reading! Next one should be up on Tuesday, but if not, than probaby Thursday or Friday.

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

“Do any of you have any idea how dangerous this is?” The group flinched at the volume. Imperator sat across from them at her desk, hands firmly planted on the surface of the wood as she stared in disbelief at the creature—Copia—sitting across from her. They all shared a glance between them before anyone opened their mouth. Imperator was, frankly, terrifying in their eyes. Often they'd hear her voice carry through the Abbey walls, shooting like lightning through the old stone and against their bodies. 

 

None of them really looked forward to conversing with her and would avoid it whenever they had the chance; having seen firsthand her unique ways of dishing out punishments. Although, they'd noted, she appeared gentler to Copia than to others, almost maternal. Which they found odd as he'd never mentioned knowing who his parents were. 

 

They all shrugged it off initially as something to do with being so close to her job-wise. 

 

“Well, eh…no,” Copia began, stumbling as he met her eyes. A small spark of red flicked off the end of his anxiously swaying tail. “Okay, yes. But, uh-” Imperator halted his words with the raise of her palm, opening and closing her mouth as she formulated her next words. 

 

“Copia,” A sigh rattled past her parted lips and the new hybrid deflated slightly. “I truly don't think you've thought this through,” A quiet whine rumbled past Copia's throat and he shuffled uncomfortably under Imperator's scrutiny, burned skin crackling purple. “Any of you,” She added with a judgemental glance at the circle surrounding her closest employee. “And I really don't believe that sending you somewhere like…that is going to solve anything,” 

 

Imperator struggled internally with her boy's dedication. On one hand his incredible determination landed him the position he had now, leading the congregation— his congregation— with a bravado she'd not seen in quite a while. Observing from the sidelines, Imperator had noted the great successes Copia had brought upon the project; the overwhelmingly positive responses something as little as a smile would bring. She'd watched how hard Copia had worked to get to where he was currently, the constant late nights; and she'd seen the overflowing of requests for his nurse to visit early in the morning. 

 

Naturally, Imperator knew just who his nurse was; but she chose to remain oblivious to the goings on that happened behind his locked door. As long as he got to his office at a reasonable time, she didn't care what he got up to otherwise. Secretly however, Imperator felt a bit of a maternal sort of jealousy; that her boy didn't come to her anymore, that he didn't need her as much anymore. Of course she knew he would grow up eventually, and would fly the nest. But she hadn't thought it would feel like that. 

 

Heartbreaking as it was, Imperator masked those feelings with a stoic demeanor, choosing instead to build up Copia's career chances however she could. Maybe it was her fault that Copia never saw her, that he held himself to unreachable standards; her fault that he'd needed to call on Aether so often for magical relief. 

 

And his unwavering determination often came as a headache for her. As it had then, with Copia sitting cross-armed and irritated; definitely not going to let this one go. There was a noticeable twitching in his brow that she always noticed appeared in moments like that, creasing at the bridge of his nose in an odd sort of way. When he was younger and she'd come to visit him, Imperator had spent more time than she'd ever admit to him tracing the creases of his nose away. 

 

“Sister,” Copia began, folding and unfolding his hands in his lap. His gloves creaked under the tension of his claws as he breathed several steadying breaths. “I understand your, eh, frustrations with all this,” A small and empty laugh escaped his lips, pointed ears twitching back against his head as he gestured to himself. “But, this is bigger than just you and me. This is help, and I want to be there,” Copia reasoned. Imperator noticed a subtle flash in his—now fiery—left eye, like the embers of a campfire or the wick of a candle; small, but just noticeable enough to mark his decision. 

 

There was a great deal that Imperator recognized about this hybrid in front of her. He looked like Copia, sounded like him, held the same anxious demeanor he did. But she didn't recognize this steely determination radiating in powerful bursts from him. He'd seemingly made up his mind, and that would be that. It reminded her of herself. The finality of his actions a mirror of her own, jagged like a quick signature, but just as important. Maybe it was a welcome surprise. Copia appeared to be growing into himself; to be growing into his role as a leader instead of begging at her feet for reassurance for every decision. 

 

Maybe he was ready for this. 

 

But what Imperator feared the most was a potential reality without him. She felt she had become a better caretaker in his older years, ever since he'd joined the Clergy. She felt he could depend on her, but perhaps it was the reverse. Love wasn't something Imperator was very open about anymore. Not that it was a waste of her time, but her mind was always occupied with something else; something work related. She felt devoted to the things they'd created and poured quite a bit of her energy in maintaining that structure. But even through that, Imperator had secretly kept Copia close by her, guiding him from the background and sharing his accomplishments alone from the privacy of her office. Like watching her kid graduate high school or pass the bar exam for law school. She often wondered if that was what Copia's achievements felt like for her. Even though she'd never tell him, she could very securely say she was deeply proud of where he'd come and who he'd become; and she didn't want to lose that strange maternal love she felt for him. 

 

So maybe that was the reason for her hesitancy; her deeply set fear of losing one of her children. But even still, Imperator was overwhelmed by pride for Copia's insistence on the issue, his determination allowing the reassurance that maybe he'd come back to them—to her —alright when this all ended. 

 

A deep sigh cut through the silence in the office before she delivered her final statement, “If you promise me right here right now that you'll come back here when you're done—and come back alive and well—then I will send for a temporary hold for your position,” 

 

The relief that rushed through the office could've knocked over buildings like floodwaters; ghouls lighting up with smiles and magic, and Imperator felt the smallest tug at the corner of her lip as Copia's tail thumped loudly against the wood flooring. Chirps and crackles filled her ears like the music she'd grown so fond of hearing as the group of nine surrounding the front of her desk delivered their gratitude. 

 

It reminded her of the days leading up to that night in Mexico, the few days before Copia's first ascension. 

 

He'd come to her backstage one night, hours before the show was set to begin after she'd paged for him. Requesting for him specifically to come then as she had very important news to deliver. 

 

“Sister,” Copia greeted, awkwardly taking a seat in front of her. The chair had creaked quite obnoxiously as he sat on the edge of it, elbows posed atop his knees as a sort of makeshift barrier between them. “You wished to see me?” He prompted, shuffling once more in the seat. 

 

He used to do that quite frequently; always moving like there was too much charge in his battery or too many things to return to. Maybe there was, he didn't win second most employee of the month for no reason, now did he? But even during times when he should've been resting, he was always moving, always checking on anyone and everyone first before he could finally sit and relax; and even then, he'd always need to get up to do something. 

 

Some days Imperator felt pity for him, that he was never able to escape the ever heavy press of work or stress enough to sit in silence for even just a few minutes. 

 

But she didn't ask him for a nice silent sit down. There was a very big, very pressing matter she needed to inform him of before he was blindsided by it in the next few days. 

 

“Yes, Cardinal,” Imperator began. Her chin sat steepled on her crossed hands as she pretended to glance over the documents in front of her. “I understand you've been doing all this for quite a long time now,” 

 

The sound of fabric shuffling continued as Copia obsessively smoothed his hands over his clothes. 

 

“Yes, Sister,” Came the quiet reply. 

 

“And you've curated many achievements thus far,” Copia's gloves creaked anxiously. There it was, she was going to lay into him about his failures. That he'd gotten so close, but just missed the mark so many times. He winced as he waited for it to come. “The Clergy would like to recognize your dedication to this project personally,” She concluded, a professional smile plastered across her face. 

 

Copia was dumbfounded. Recognize him? For what? He'd not even gotten close to winning something like a Grammy; not gotten close to reaching the bigger-than-life presentation of his relatives before him. He was just Copia. Just a Cardinal first of all. So what would there be to congratulate him for? 

 

“Recognize?” Copia murmured, gaze having fallen to the concrete floor beneath them, which suddenly looked very appealing to him. “But I don't understand,” 

 

Imperator leaned forward in her chair and offered up her hands for him to take, which Copia accepted graciously. “Copia, I know you might find this new undertaking with a great fear,” She began, offering a gentle squeeze to both of his gloved hands. He felt frail in her grasp, bones poking uncomfortably into her palms even through the thick leather of his gloves. 

 

She'd noticed that about him too; that he'd needed the tailor to fit his clothes tighter and tighter lately, size always slowly diminishing into something a bit worrying. He looked sunken, worked through and then some on some days, under eyes always prominent even through the paint there. Imperator hoped that would pass soon, lest he need to retire temporarily for however long his healing would take. 

 

“But I truly think this is the right time for this to happen,” Upon Copia's subtle look of confusion, Imperator concluded with, “You're being promoted, Cardinal. You're going to hold the title of Papa Emeritus The Fourth,” 

 

The light in Copia's eyes then was blinding but contagious, and Imperator found herself smiling internally at his overwhelming excitement. Like the feeling of the sun after a great thunderstorm, or returning home after a long stint away. It was suffocatingly innocent and delightful. She could feel it trickling down her body like drinking hot tea during the winter; that overwhelming feeling of pride for her son. 

 

He wouldn't actually express his gratitude until days later, too caught up in this big change to really allow himself to think for a second. But she could feel it still, in the moments before he'd rush onstage during a show, or the smile that greeted her after each tour cycle. It lasted for years, and she could still always feel the gratitude he held for her; mixed with a growing sense of pride, that he'd gotten this far from nothing. 

 

“I promise you, Sister. I'll come back to you,” Copia whispered, a bright smile flaking the black paint around his glowing eyes. 

⛧

 

Aether had taken him to one of the hidden alcoves in the Abbey, near the unused portion of the grounds, to teach him a few new abilities he'd need to know. There were many of those, hidden lounges behind tapestries or behind hidden doors. Copia had found almost all of them when he was younger and avoided his classes. They weren't particularly spacious, most of them holding maybe a large sofa and not much else. 

 

This one was much the same, the two ghouls stuffed close together on a burgundy sofa under the cover of a large tapestry. Copia didn't really know where they came from or who had made them, but they'd been scattered around the Abbey for as long as he could remember and they were all beautifully macabre to look at. Falling apart as it was, this one provided enough privacy that the pair could avoid disturbances while they worked. 

 

“Okay, Papa,” Aether curled up behind him on the sofa a bit awkwardly, large thighs bracketing Copia's own while the ghoul took hold of the hybrid's covered hands. “This might be hard to grasp at first, but it'll be okay,” 

 

Copia snorted softly as Aether maneuvered him in his lap. “Or at all, eh? I'm afraid I don't know where to start, Aeth,” He murmured, a hint of embarrassment poking through his tone. A rumbling laugh rattled Copia's frame and he found himself pouting despite himself. 

 

“We'll just have to take it slow then,” Aether responded fondly. “Watch first, then try it,” He lifted his hands off Copia's wrists and, with a complicated flick of his wrists, a dim swirl of purple appeared between his hands. It swam and twisted in the air between Copia's eyes for a moment before dispersing in a small cloud, taking the soft light with it. Copia stared in awe, nose twitching as he quietly sniffed around the empty space in front of him. 

 

Copia had seen Aether's magic before. He'd actually seen all his ghouls perform spells and things like that, but it felt different now. He could do that too, maybe. He didn't know actually. 

 

“Go for it, Nightingale,” Aether encouraged, giving a soft little nuzzle to the side of one of the hybrid's curling horns. Copia released a subtle purr at that and leaned back into Aether's broad chest. Taking in a steadying breath, Copia lifted his shaking hands and slowly maneuvered them the same way Aether had just done. 

 

Of course, the air sparked softly—like the spikes on an audio visualizer—before blinking out once again. It wasn't nearly as impressive as his mate's, and Copia growled softly. The rational part of his mind was telling him that these things take time, that he'd get there eventually. It was an area of his brain he accessed frequently while he worked. It usually calmed him down enough to get through his workload, but here it just made him frustrated. 

 

And so did Aether's apparent amusement, the ghoul's soft laughter vibrating Copia's back.

 

“Now just what is so funny to you , Aether?” Copia snipped, twin streams of smoke pouring from the corners of his open mouth. Aether had worried then that Copia might get too hot and burn him. Dew had that effect sometimes, of getting too worked up and accidentally burning the wrists of his shirts, or the fur off Aether's arms. It was a bit annoying; mostly to Dew's tailor. There was a moment Aether had gone to calm the fire ghoul down after a particularly terrible ritual and Dew's shoulders had burned so hot they branded the stitching of his jacket into Aether's hands for a couple days after that. Aether had hoped that Copia wouldn't get to that point anytime soon. 

 

He brushed the tip of his nose against Copia's neck to soothe him even just a little, purring against his back before he spoke, “You're getting all upset and it's cute,” Aether teased and squeezed Copia's waist softly. The hybrid squirmed in Aether's grip, ticklish and upset. It was an odd mix of feelings and Copia wasn't sure how to handle that. 

 

“You're just doing that to distract me,” Copia retorted, pretending to be oblivious to Aether's giggling, and lifted his hands once more. The second time around was much like the first. However the spark was brighter, illuminating the small space around them in purples and whites before it dispersed once more. 

 

“Hey, now you're getting it,” Copia felt the ghoul's smile press against the exposed skin of his neck before he heard it. He tilted his head to the side instinctively as Aether's lips brushed up near his ear, breath tickling across his skin. It was a dance they'd both been quite accustomed to, and knew the steps of very well. But even after so long together, something like that would still send a small thrill through Copia's veins. He just hoped Aether couldn't see it now that they were of the same element. But a part of him knew it was different. You learn many things about a partner after so many years together, and reactions were one of them. 

 

“Maybe I'd get it more if you weren't so distracting,” Copia grinned even though Aether couldn't see it. Before he could continue with that statement, Copia felt two strong arms wrap around his midsection and he was dragged backwards, giggling and squealing as he tried to squirm his way out. 

 

“I can be distracting if you need me to be, Copia,” Aether growled playfully and nudged the sides of his horns against Copia's temple. Copia took that challenge and flipped around in Aether's lap, essentially pinning the larger ghoul to the seat of the sofa; legs bracketing the ghoul's strong arms to his sides. Copia wore a proud grin, pointed teeth digging into his bottom lip slightly as his tail lashed happily behind him. 

 

“Scacco matto, amore,” Aether growled softly up at him, but that didn't stop the loud purr that infiltrated the enclosed alcove. 

⛧

 

Dew's choice of setting was the lake. It used to be his home before his transformation, holding bittersweet memories now as he stood above the water. The ripples reminded him of the time before then, when he'd spend hours drifting near the bottom of the lake, curled into himself as he watched the bubbles of air float to the surface. 

 

The lake used to be a calming presence, a reminder of home. But now it stood as a reminder of something that had been taken from him, a part of him that he'd never get back. It was melancholy in its mysterious beauty, the surface so dark it appeared like the maw of some great beast 

 

He'd brought Copia there that night just in case anything went to shit and they needed an extinguisher. 

 

“Alright, so you're gonna need to stand like this,” Dew instructed, standing tall with his feet planted firmly against the sand—but oddly relaxed. It was strange to see in Dewdrop. Relaxation in his form wasn't something Copia had really seen, even while asleep Dew was always shielding himself; with his tail or his limbs. There was always a barrier between him and the world. Copia had only really noticed that happening after that transformation; traumatizing in ways he'd never begin to imagine. Or maybe he would. Copia certainly didn't think his transformation was anything to look forward to, and he was increasingly anxious for what would happen when he needed to return to his original form. 

 

So maybe they mirrored each other in more ways than either of them had previously thought. 

 

Dew rounded Copia's back, eyeing his form—maybe something else too, but if no one else was around to see him ogling Copia's backside, did it really happen?—to join up behind him. Copia remained still, waiting for instruction. “I'm going to guide your hands while you create shit, alright?” 

 

“Okie-dokie,” Copia quipped and Dew's eyes rolled so hard he thought they might pop out of his skull. But he still chuckled anyway. The ghoul took a loose hold of Copia's hands and began to tap his fingertips against the backs of Copia's, pressing out small flames from beneath the gloves. They were hot but didn't burn, feeling more like sticking your hand into a warm bath or under a heated blanket. Although, Copia noted, the outsides of his gloves were beginning to singe slightly and he wasn't sure he liked that. 

 

Dew was gentle with him, nose pressed against the covered scar on his shoulder as he studied Copia's form. Gentle with him as Dew guided his hands through the air, tapping out magic from the tips of his fingers. Copia could feel the slightly anxious twitch of Dew's spaded tail brushing across his calves with each swipe and he smiled to himself. At least he wasn't the only one, although his tail was trapped between their bodies. 

 

“Okay, let's try this one,” Dew muttered, mostly to himself. He pulled Copia's hands apart as if he were playing the accordion, suspending them in the air while Dew traced circles against the backs of Copia's palms for a second. There was a pressure there, like Dew’s grip was tighter than it really was, or a valve needed to be opened. “Can you feel that?” Dew murmured. There was a small hint of excitement in his tone and Copia nodded. “Alright, just wait a sec,” He released Copia's wrists and stepped back. “Now release it,” He concluded, grinning ear to ear as a bright strand of heat descended from Copia's left hand, burning through the air to disappear into his right palm. Like shuffling a deck of cards, and Copia laughed in surprise. 

 

“Cavolo! Fantastico!” Copia exclaimed, eyes bright and alive as he watched the last of that strand disappear. He turned his head to glance back at Dew, innocent pride radiating from his being. Dew grinned back, sidling up behind him again to gather him in an embrace. 

 

“That was pretty fuckin’ cool,” Dew murmured with a small laugh. He peppered a few kisses across Copia's neck and cheek before he could really stop himself, and Copia turned around to return the favor with a proper one. The strange warmth he'd gotten used to expecting with Dew was no longer there, their temperatures reaching the same level of heat to seem cold to one another. 

 

While Dew hadn't spent nearly as much time warming up Copia's bed as Aether had, the pair still had their own special ways of congratulating one another and they both knew exactly which actions meant what. Copia prided himself on that front, having figured Dew out pretty quick when they'd first met; which phrases would get him to react in certain ways and which ones to avoid. 

 

And Dew felt similar, although he felt Copia was easy to read. The man practically wore his heart on his sleeve and Dew could've just plucked it right off if he wanted. But he really didn't, so instead he busied himself by plucking off the buttons of the hybrid's dress shirt instead, grinning to himself as Copia chirped inquisitively.

⛧

 

Phantom had taken over for Aether in teaching Copia quintessence magic. Aether hadn't minded, and Copia felt it would be more productive to have Phantom be his mentor instead of his mate. Their relationship was different and wouldn't interfere nearly as much as his and Aether's had been doing. Copia had felt stunted because of it, lacking in his abilities because he and Aether would get too caught up in each other to remember what they were training for. 

 

Phantom was happy to help, perhaps a bit too eager, but happy to help nonetheless. 

 

He'd taken Copia to the library, near the back with the fireplace. It was a quiet and familiar place that Copia had frequented often before his ascension, choosing there to work on his studies as no one really disturbed him there. Apart from a few fuzzy creatures he now held as pets. 

 

That area of the library was a nice reminder of when he was younger and more able, strutting about a stage like a peacock and flaunting all he had in those tight pants. Copia had scoffed upon seeing a couple old photos of himself a few months prior, incredulous at his audacity. Though it wasn't much different than the clothes he wore now, pants still just as tight and demeanor much the same; though he did move noticeably older. 

 

Phantom smiled bright as he coached Copia through how to access the parts of him that would bring the most power. “Okay okay,” He began excitedly, grasping Copia's hands from his perch on the floor in front of him. “Close your eyes,” Copia shut his eyes, the subtle glow from each one dimming to nothing as he did so. “And think deep about your mind. Think of it as like a hallway, or a road with houses,” Copia did as he was told and watched through his mind's eye as he walked through a darkened corridor filled with the same type of door. 

 

He recognized it as one of the chapel doors, with the stem golden handles and carvings. He ran his fingers across them as he continued down the hallway. 

 

“Each door holds a different part of yourself, some of them are good and some of them are not so good,” Phantom continued. As he spoke, he traced two fingers along the length of Copia's left palm, mimicking the walk Copia was currently doing. “When you get to the end, or maybe the middle of this hallway, there will be a door that's different from the rest. It might be a different color or have a different knob on it. Whatever it is, that's the door you want to open. It has the deepest parts of you, the ones that hold the deepest emotions, and those are the ones you need to latch onto to use your ability,” 

 

Copia twitched in Phantom’s hold as he continued down the corridor, and sure enough there was a different door. It was the same color as the rest and the golden handles were the same, but there was a different carving near the top left. It was hard to decipher in the dark, but it was different. He pressed down on the handle and the door popped open. 

 

“Okay open your eyes,” Phantom instructed and Copia did just that, blinking a few times as he adjusted to the light of the room. Phantom smiled up at him and released Copia's hands. “Now try,”

 

Copia nodded softly and lifted his hands, flicking his wrists and gapping his fingers to some distant rhythm again. They'd been at this for a couple hours at that point, and Copia had begun to feel hopeless. But, just then the area lit up in purple as a large sphere materialized between Copia's suspended hands. It glowed bright and Phantom found himself shielding his eyes for a moment. 

 

Copia swirled his hand over top of it and it twisted into an odd sort of swirl, following Copia's hand as he guided it around Phantom’s head. Like smoke, it curled around the ghoul's horns and neck before dissipating into the air around them, and Phantom laughed brightly. 

 

“Papa, that was amazing!” He exclaimed, jumping up to tackle Copia against the back of the sofa. Copia yelped and grasped for something to hold onto, curling around Phantom’s body to avoid falling. Phantom grinned wide and nuzzled up against Copia's cheek, purring deep and loud against his chest. It vibrated through his body and Copia found comfort in the idea that Phantom was so struck that he began to purr. Copia answered with one of his own, quiet and gentle. Phantom supposed he could purr loud enough for the both of them. 

 

“Grazie, my lovely ghoul,” Copia murmured, relaxing in his hold as Phantom maneuvered them to lay across the sofa. Phantom hummed in response, petting over Copia's thighs and across his stomach affectionately. 

 

Copia had noticed right away that Phantom had always seemed to show his affection that way, through the caresses of his hands or the brush of his lips; always physical. Something as small as a hug meant the world to him, and he'd always return it tenfold later. It was endearing to Copia, and he always welcomed whatever advances Phantom threw at him, the touch of another always a comfort for the aging pope. 

 

Phantom was always grateful for Copia's acceptances. As he was then, curled up close to his summoner under the watchful eye of the moon streaming in through the window and the heat of their bodies among that of the fireplace; the embers burning dimly as the wood burned away. He would always be gentle with Copia—when he remembered—and Copia would always be gentle with him. It was their special secret, and neither planned on giving that up. 

 

⛧

 

Later, when they deemed him ready, the group would help Copia gather his affairs, sorting through his office or his chambers for anything he might deem valuable; constantly checking with Imperator to ensure their positions would be filled correctly. 

 

They would fawn over Copia's wellbeing as well, worried he might back out if he felt he should. They knew how he ran things and didn't want to risk the hard work of many going down the drain so fast. 

 

In the late nights of October, as the blood moon appeared in the sky, the group would finish their final preparations to return to the Pit, blocking off the chapel for the time being while they waited for the right time to go.

Notes:

Meow meow, go follow my Twitter: @Splash2Lemon
K bye

Chapter 6: 6

Notes:

I know I said this was on hiatus, and it was don't get me wrong, but I'm almost done with high school (last day is Friday whoo hoo), and after the new album came out I got a burst of inspiration to actually write the rest of this chapter.
So here it is. The beginning of it is not the greatest as I really didn't want to write it, and I'm not particularly proud of the lack of detail, but it's almost midnight and I have an exam tomorrow so I don't really feel like editing it right now.

Obligatory Spotify playlist link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NngQfQZS3aVQCiZ2lg4hO?si=tP6gZhOgSy2VW0UvJIIhCw

Okay, happy reading, byeeee

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

It was late one evening when they gathered. The moon had only just begun to stream through the colored glass of the chapel, casting glowing images over the circle of ghouls. Maybe on another night Copia might've paused to take in the scenery.

 

He'd taken up the habit a couple years prior. Sitting alone in the chapel one night, Copia had glanced up and noticed the projection of orange and pink contorting over the ceiling, casting odd squares of light over the beams there and down to the tiles under his feet. Copia hadn't really ever taken the time to study the stained glass up until that point, too caught up in whichever task he'd been handed that day to even think of casting a glance at them. 

 

But naturally that night during his own private prayer, Copia had caught the sparkling windows during a perfect time; the moon posed delicately between the raised hands of Baphomet, as if the demon were presenting it himself. 

 

It was a beautiful display and Copia stood rapt for quite a while longer than he thought, just staring up at the rafters; scanning over the colorful beams until he felt sluggish with sleep and needed to drag himself back to his room. 

 

But of course, there was no time for dilly-dallying that night. They all had a job to do, and they had an audience. Imperator had called upon the highest members of the Clergy to witness their descent to ensure that everything went according to plan—and perhaps to oversee her son's departure, but she'd never say that outright. 

 

“Okie dokie, peoples,” Copia chirped, clapping his hands together in that nervous way he'd always resort to. The other ghouls supposed he had a right to be nervous, but that didn't quell their own anxious thoughts either. The quickening twice of Copia's spaded tail or the soft flaps of his ears were dead giveaways to his true feelings, but they commended him for his efforts anyhow. “Let's get this show on the road, eh?” He grinned wide, eyes sliding over the circle in front of him; scanning the preparations before he turned to face the pews. Copia heard a snicker behind him, most likely from either Dew or Swiss.

 

Sat tall and perfect was Imperator, hands folded and expression unreadable as she considered him. To her left was Papa Nihil, glowing and appearing bored as usual. His parents. He wasn't sure how to feel about them watching this happen; about them knowing of any of this actually. But he supposed the secret would reveal itself eventually. Copia quickly shifted his gaze elsewhere. 

 

Among other members Copia hadn't really talked to before—Cardinals and Bishops, all glued to him—was Mr. Psaltarian. Their relationship was interesting, Copia never really knew where they stood together, even growing up. He was always hard to figure out and Copia didn't even really think he'd figured the man out then. But the look in his eyes was different than usual, something there felt familiar. 

 

“Hello,” Copia began and bowed his head. “I trust you all know why you're here tonight. So this should need no introduction,” A spark of orange crackled off the end of his tail, flickering in the dim light of the candles before dispersing entirely. “If you would, please join us tonight as we, eh,” He paused, wrist waving in the air as he grabbed at an imaginary word. “Traverse something unseen to you or I before,” The fabric of his denim jacket slid back on his wrist to reveal the maroon skin underneath, still scarred with ancient writing from the prior ritual. 

 

Cirrus had approached him a few days after that—when he was still shacked up in the infirmary—to apologize. She'd rushed in one day, eyes misty and brow set up, to his beside. Copia had startled awake, having been dreaming—of preferably not paperwork—to see her kneeling there, cheek pressed up against his bare hand while she whispered softly to herself. 

 

“Dolcezza,” He stopped himself to cough, throat dry and tight still days later. “What troubles you this afternoon?” Copia lifted his hand, curling cracking and stiff fingers around the contours of Cirrus's jaw. The ghoulette sniffled softly and rose to her feet. 

 

“Let me see,” She gestured to his wrist, circling her hand loosely around it. A tiny smile spread across Copia's face, contorting the lines around his eyes. There were still bandages around many parts of him, covering up the worst of his injuries or hiding the still bleeding ones. But his face remained uncovered, bare to the world; and Copia spent most of his time alone in the infirmary in front of the window, allowing himself to just feel the subtle breeze against his new skin. 

 

“...Okay, but you won't like it very much,” Copia responded and pulled away to sit up. The sheets bunched over his waist, leaving his chest open. Covering most of his torso were several large bandages, soaked through in some spots with blood and other spots burned. Cirrus knew what was underneath that one, she'd been in the room with Aether and Swiss as they'd patched him up. They were gentle with him, more careful than she'd seen from—at least Swiss—in a while, all while Copia lay sleeping on the table; twitching occasionally in his dreams while the two ghouls sewed and stuck him back together.

 

That day, Cirrus chose not to focus on that. Instead drawing her attention to the marks on Copia's wrists and the etching that burned there. The words were still readable, glowing like magma and steaming lightly as she inspected them. 

 

“Oh, Papa, I‐” Cirrus whined, turning his wrist over and over in her hand. Copia halted her fussing with a gentle sigh, instead lacing their fingers together. 

 

“My lovely ghoulette, it is not your fault,” Copia whispered, lifting her hand to press a weak kiss to the back of it. It sizzled against her skin and left a purple mark against her blue hide. “Just a byproduct of, uh, this,” He laughed softly, though it sounded a little empty, and gestured to himself. Cirrus raised a questioning brow at him. “It'll heal up soon,” Copia added and opened up his arms for her. “Now come here, it gets lonely without you all here,” 

 

Cirrus snorted and climbed over to lay next to him, being mindful to only touch where the bandages were. 

 

“So, let's all watch this spectacle, yes?” His arms flared out, Copia turned back around with an anxious smile on his face. His extended hands were grasped by Mountain and Cumulus; warm and inviting and Copia offered both of them a smile. 

 

Cumulus’s hands were usually always warm, not particularly hot, but warmer than, say, Rain's—To be fair, most of theirs were. There was always a distinct way she'd hold his hands too, easy to recognize in the gentle press of her fingers. Copia always looked forward to that, from any of the girls. He'd often link up with them in their days out; simply because the girls were more understanding of his age. Not that the guys couldn't sense it either, but it always seemed like the girls knew better. 

 

However the boys could be observant when they wanted to be. Aether didn't count in Copia's mind though, their bond was the closest of any of the 8, so he deemed it unfair to make that observation. Staring was a commonplace among his companions, he could always feel at least one set of eyes on him at all times; watching, studying. Mountain and Rain looked the most, silent in their nature and a bit frightening sometimes. 

 

Mountain's large form was surprisingly sneaky and Copia often found himself glancing over his shoulder to find the tall ghoul behind him, just staring. He was particularly sneaky in other ways. Often Copia would enter his office in the morning to be greeted with a small bunching of flowers laid across his desk, posed carefully so as to not break the stems and usually by themselves. He'd asked the ghoul a few times about the flowers—what they meant and where he'd acquired them—and was always met with a gentle smile and silence. 

 

Mountain's grasp was much as gentle and quiet as he was, calloused hands sliding over smooth leather as he grasped Copia's wrist. His hands weren't warm, bordering on cold and Copia felt the chill through his glove, piercing his heated skin with a slightly uncomfortable feeling. 

 

Copia slid his eyes over the group once more, a final look before they all bowed their heads and the chapel filled with light. 

⛧

The air around them was suddenly cold, wind blowing the hair off their necks and the fur around their wrists and ankles. It smelled faintly of charcoal or the fireplace in Copia's room during the winter—when Aether would join him and light it while complaining about the chill in the air. 

 

“Geez, where'd you land us, Papa?” Copia glanced up, ear twitching at the breeze. The landscape was definitely unusual, something he'd only ever seen in a dream; maybe under quintosis. The dirt under his shoes felt dry and cracked, crunching as he turned around. It was red, like clay, but hard like gravel; rolling under the toe of his boot and off a small ledge somewhere. 

 

Similarly strange was the sight that greeted him upon looking up. Dripping like wine droplets was the sky, red and macabre like the ground below its feet. Copia had the thought that he might be able to reach up and grab a small piece for himself; to hold it in his hands and view the world from up high. It was an oddly beautiful display. 

 

Stars dotted the expanse of the horizon, twinkling like the ripples on a lake. Copia briefly wondered if there were lakes down there, then thought silly of himself. Of course there were, where would his lovely water ghoul come from otherwise? He thought of the sky, the water-like texture of it—the way it waved and rippled—and wondered if the lakes would be the same; red and twinkling. Or if they differed based on area. 

 

The scene looked like something from a picture book, a stereotypical interpretation of what the Hellish landscape would look like: red and barren; like the wild west or the Sahara desert. Copia found himself a little let down. He'd always pictured something less…that. Something dark, mysterious, but strangely inviting. 

 

“Looks like the outskirts of the fiery parts of here,” Dew observed, head tilted up and nose twitching as he looked around. The breeze carried that charcoal smell once more, brushing it under Copia's nose like the tail of a cat. The pleasantry of it quickly fades however, being replaced by a sickly sweet smell; something like the compost bin behind the kitchens. Rotten. It turned the hybrid's stomach and he found his head spinning, the landscape washing together like watercolor on a canvas. 

 

“Something caught your attention, Dewy?” Aurora's tone flitted through the air, eyes focused on Dew’s hard-set jaw. The ghoul in question scowled at her, though there seemed to be no real malice behind it as the tiny Ghoulette giggled and strutted up next to him. Their relationship was strange. Dew was always cordial with the young ghoulette; courting her like one might with a woman of high status—flowers and nice outings and what-have-you. 

 

Aurora was always overly accepting of the fire ghoul's advances, greeting him often with a bright smile and a brighter glow to her eye. It was adorably innocent, and the group would tease the pair whenever they went out together. Something about it was naively childish like school children or the young siblings Copia would often greet as they made their ways to their Latin classes. 

 

From the few stories Copia had heard from Dew and Aurora, they appeared to be happy with each other, and Copia was eternally grateful for that; pleased that his lovely ghouls were getting along with each other. He'd been worried for the guitarist for quite a long time after everything happened, fretting over him even when burned hands swatted at him to go away. He felt guilty, wishing to undo something that couldn't be undone. So, when he found out that Dew had begun meeting with his fellow bandmates, Copia had breathed a few large sigh of relief and congratulated his mate for fighting through everything so hard. 

 

Dew always preened at the praise, but he'd never let Copia know that. 

 

“Something’s wrong…” Dew answered darkly. Fiery eyes slid over the landscape in front of him, nose twitching and hands clenched tight. The ghoul's expression slowly twisted up, something like realization or horror crunching at his nose. Something, indeed, was not right. The air was thicker than Dew remembered, hot but not in temperature; hot with dread, like the clomping of an incoming army's boots on gravel, and it wasn't their own. The group collectively perked at a noise, heads turning wildly and pointed ears twitching. Something skittered behind them in the red bushes, scattering dirt in maroon clouds as it lept away; like a squirrel or a bunny. But they didn't have those down there. 

 

Maybe one of them should've shrieked or something. That might’ve been appropriate—Cumulus or Aurora most likely. But that didn't happen. Though, Copia filled in the sound anyway, spaded tail flicking in a nervous sort of dread at the sound of more rubble kicking up around them. 

 

“Dew, what's going on?” Copia found himself almost whining the question, reaching blindly for the fire ghoul's arm. Dew hissed initially and startled, transfixed on the noises around them. He knew what that meant. Of course he knew. His time spent down there offered up more than enough encounters with those things that Dew knew to stay far away. 

 

He'd been told countless times as a kit living in the lakes to stay far away from this part of the Pit; stories of ghouls being snatched up like cattle on an alien ship and never returned…or returned differently. He'd seen it happen too. Dew preferred not to think about that, a small shudder ripping up his spine at the thought. 

 

“We need to get out of here,” Mountain rumbled. Although the large ghoul presented himself as a calm and collected individual, they'd all been around him long enough to know when his nerves got the best of him. Claws flexed, jaw set, and teeth bared was enough of an indicator to know. Copia actually believed the siblings at times like that when they claimed how imposing Mountain really was; how strangely frightening. Maybe his whole demeanor made him look sort of like a large bear or maybe a disproportionate deer—one of the ones with that rare disease Copia'd read about a while ago. 

 

Copia liked Mountain. Copia liked all his ghouls, but he liked Mountain; the mysterious stature of his body, the alluring bass of his voice, rattling the singer’s ribcage with each note. Copia liked Mountain quite a lot. The drummer offered him quiet respite from the daily tasks he'd grown so accustomed to doing,  quiet moments in the greenhouses or near the lake. Soft touches and words he'd never heard spoken with such reverie before. Perhaps Copia favored larger ghouls the same way Phantom favored energetic ones; allure, or adventure. Something different. 

 

“I know a place,” Aether piped up. Copia couldn't mistake the subtle growl under his tone as the quint scanned around them. The red brush bristled and flowed like a great wind had taken over the vicinity. But there was no chill, only the sound of feet crunching through gravel as the group of nine quickly raced away. “Follow me!” Aether called, leading the charge away. 

 

Maybe Copia could've appreciated the childlike wonder that tingled at the back of his mind as the group raced through the dirt path, kicking up rocks and dust in subtle red clouds; like terracotta. The land was unfamiliar in a dreamlike way; colors stretching and melting out of the sky like wax, bushes and foliage the color of blood that bristled and sliced at the exposed skin of his neck or the occasional flashes of his ankles and stomach. However, something about it all felt nostalgic as if he'd been there before. Perhaps in a dream. 

 

But Copia's musings were cut short as something closed around his left ankle, just above the top of his boot, and yanked. The Satanic pope yipped, chin connecting hard with the ground below him, sending a shock of hot lightning to spread across his jaw. He scrambled, clawed gloves searching frantically for purchase on anything as he kicked and struggled against whatever had grabbed ahold of him. 

 

It was wet, slimy maybe, and wriggling; suctioned to the skin under the hem of his pants with a tingly, yucky feeling. Copia whined and craned his neck to glance down his back at it. It was black, almost opaque or flat—but reflective of the sky above—and it slithered over the landscape behind it like a snake, disappearing into the red brush a few yards away. Like a tentacle. Copia shrieked and struggled against the ground, boots sliding with a ticklish friction and a disconcerting rough sound. 

 

He felt his heartbeat quickening, thundering like the beat of Mountain's bass drum while he scrambled for his ghoul's hands. Copia hadn't been so terribly frantic since he was turned, nerves set alight and numb at the same time. Normally the feeling served as exciting for him, like an adrenaline shot. But there he couldn't figure out where his clothes ended and where his skin began, material melting together in a sickening sort of way. He was panicking. He could tell, the gloves on his hands sticking to his cracked skin with a gross kind of wetness Copia was never fond of. Copia cringed, nose scrunched and brow knit together tight. 

 

A hand encircled his wrist just as he managed a hard kick to the thing, pulling him up and into solid arms. Copia whined at the nasty wetness surrounding his ankle as the thing slithered back into the darkness of the red brush, a hiss like a snake sounding from somewhere back there; and Copia shuddered to think about what exactly it was attached to. 

 

There was a hesitant, “I gotcha, Papa,” that rumbled against where Copia's ear pressed into a built chest, curling around his eardrums in an inaudible way. He'd not heard it, but understood it anyway. Swiss had caught him, dragging him up and into his lap, situating the hybrid in an awkward ball against his torso. 

 

Swiss was never used to the softer side of things, barely used to holding hands. The ghoul tended to lean towards the more exciting, adrenaline-filled aspects of life, saving—really—no space for mundane things like cuddling after entanglement or a stolen kiss here and there. Occasionally, he'd grant himself a spot with Phantom or Rain or whomever else wished to stay the night with him, and he'd allow some vulnerability; But, like Dew, Swiss preferred to keep his reputation—his wall—of a persona intact, and if he needed to sacrifice the softer moments to ensure that, then that was just a negative byproduct. 

 

But, when he'd couple with Copia, Swiss found himself staying longer and longer each time; laying there with the pope's head cuddled close to his heart, or feeling the singer's naked fingers brushing over his horns. Swiss could picture it clear as day if he wanted, the adoration in his mismatched eyes, the subtle whispers of, “thank you,” or “You're always so good to me, mio amore,” and he'd smile that crooked smile. Sometimes his teeth would poke out as well, sometimes—most times—he'd leave paint smears up the side of Swiss's jaw; a perfect trail to his lips. 

 

And Swiss would wear those marks with the same level of pride that Copia wore the gashes and rings of teeth he'd give back. 

 

“Grazie,” Copia murmured and his voice cracked at the second syllable. He made no moves to get up however, content to sit there and leech off the momentary solitude the multi-ghoul was providing. Not that Swiss particularly minded, again, Copia was different in a way he was fond of. He smoothed a hand lightly over the hybrid's crown, tickling the inside edges of his horns and delighting in the amused chirp it pulled out of him. 

 

While Copia hadn't particularly figured his new form out yet, hadn't really tried, he'd become versed enough in the little sounds the rest of the pack would make; the chirping or trilling, occasional yelps and hisses. Copia had already been quite good at figuring out which noises meant what, though he hadn't been particularly good at Infernal. The learning curve reminded him of his first Latin class, the frustration in not being able to understand the words being spoken to or around him. 

 

But he'd been getting better at Infernal at least, chirps and trills becoming commonplace in his surprise. Though, he'd always made noise, humming or muttering to himself when he thought no one was listening. So, the ghoulish noises he'd been presenting lately weren't a surprise necessarily, but still a nice addition to his new form. 

 

“Always, Copia,” Swiss murmured into a hairline still beaded with sweat and anxiety. “Now c'mon, we better get outta here,” He felt Copia snort and nod before a gentle pair of lips brushed across the hinge of his jaw, barely there and fleeting, but there at all; and Swiss smiled to himself. “Aether's got a place for all of us,” Swiss finished and disentangled the pope from his grasp, standing on slightly numb legs with hands still grasping covered skin. 

 

The hybrid struggled slightly to his feet, groaning his complaints as his knees popped loudly in the silence of the cliffside. Normally, Dew or Swiss would snicker and toss him a small remark about his age, playful jeering that Copia would always return with his own in jest. But the fog of soft terror still lingered over the group, so it stayed silent instead. 

 

All except for Copia's, “‘m too old for this,” and a snicker as he laughed dryly to himself. 

⛧

As the group descended the cliff, the volume and energy gradually flowed back into them, stunted momentarily by the excursion in the forest. Copia smiled wide while Aether led him by hand to wherever it was they were headed, chuckling at whatever little joke one of the ghouls decided to spin next; he didn't think he'd ever heard so much about how obviously unbelievably old he was, or the definitely pathetic noises he made with a certain member of their pack. Copia'd ducked his head with a shy smile, horns glowing at the tips and face following suit in his embarrassment. 

 

There was a rusting none of them caught in the ground beneath them, in the rolling of gravel, or the subtle wind that caressed their arms like the touch of a feather. Like the eyes of a security camera, they were being studied by the environment; alive in a way that only this kind of scenario would grant. It might've been off-putting if any of them were really paying attention, but naturally, they'd become too wrapped up in their group to really keep their heads on any sort of swivel. 

 

“ One of them isn't right …” 

 

“ He's not wrong either…”

 

“But not right…”

 

“Familiar…”

 

“Do you know him?”

 

“Sometimes…not in this body…”

 

“Follow him…Bring him to me and we can deliver him together…”

 

“Penitence….Do you think he sees how the other ones do?”

 

“Perhaps…I can sense his desire…for them…I want to keep him…”

Notes:

Slay
Again, I'm super sorry to have had to leave this hanging for so long (long in my mind ((know what else is long?))), but I'm not in a very good mental state at the moment and needed a bit to focus on my academics. But anyway, I've got all the time in world now, so here this is!
Next chapter shall pick up the pace just a little I believe.
Go listen to that playlist, I custom made it lol.
K bye

Chapter 7: 7

Notes:

Hey, this was supposed to have another scene in it, but I got carried away
So this is a very long chapter. Oops lol
Spotify link as always: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NngQfQZS3aVQCiZ2lg4hO?si=tP6gZhOgSy2VW0UvJIIhCw

Happy Reading!

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

Copia always had a difficult time falling asleep. Staring up at the ceiling had become a pastime of his, counting every crack or scuff he could see in the darkness of his room never seemed to lull him quite to sleep. Walking created a distraction, the loud clicks of his heeled boots against the linoleum tiles or the crunch of dirt under his soles prospered a symphony of noise he could focus on instead of his lack of sleep. 

 

But he was always an anxious man, pacing, pacing. Back and forth, no matter where he might be. 

 

Just as he had been doing that night. Aether had guided them briskly through the brush, past ruins and lakes that bubbled with colors Copia didn't think were possible to see. The land was captivating to him, miles of curling branches, reaching down like fingers to grasp at their bodies. Expanses of water, turned colors that looked like paintings. He'd asked Rain and Dew about them, their experiences living there. Rain had supplied him with stories of his life as a kit, born into a pack quite different from theirs now, skills learned from a young age—although, he was still quite clumsy with them. 

 

The group had reached a small standstill, a little pond of purple to their right, and Rain provided a demonstration. Striding up to the gathering of water like a giddy child on Christmas morning, Rain plunged up to the elbows, feeling the temperature and texture of the liquid. It felt cool in his hands, almost icy. He watched, almost hypnotized, as the currents gliding between his fingers sparkled like glitter, coating his arms in lavender. 

 

Rain, while living mainly in the lakes and rivers around his area, hadn't seen very much distinction in color really ever. His old pack shied away from the brighter pools for the imbalances in them caused burning against their dark hides. Rain was used to the dark, the deep depths of the rivers and the solitude it provided him. The dark was familiar and Rain liked familiar. 

 

But even he couldn't quell the subtle wonder behind his eyes as he took from the pond, hands rising apart. Encased between them was a small sphere, similar perhaps, to the ones Copia had created with Aether and Phantom months prior. However, those were light, this was a completely different element. But it was beautiful, glowing anyway under the light of the amaranthine moon. Like stained glass, throwing various flecks of color across the gravel behind him. 

 

Rain flicked his left wrist, twisting the side of the circle into something like the edge of a taffy wrapper, flared like, well, Rain's tail. The group was rapt, in awe as they watched Rain's graceful movements. He reminded Copia of his time in ballet; the slow and royal movements of the ghoul's arms felt familiar to him; like Swan Lake. He could've laughed at the irony if he weren't so transfixed on the scene before him. Swirls of maroon and periwinkle blended together as the group eventually continued on their way, the water ghoul continuing to morph and transform the small sphere in his hands. 

 

Aether's admission of arrival caused Rain to stumble in his movements and ultimately, the small bit of liquid dropped—with a bit less grace than the ghoul had shown earlier—to the ground between his boots. The ghoul whined under his breath, arms crossed in a childish way Copia hadn't really seen from him. 

 

Here turned out to be a collection of pods, or rooms—Copia preferred rooms—set up inside the crumbling stone of some sort of building Copia couldn't figure out. The roof seemed to have surreptitiously dipped long ago, only few remains being left behind; over corners mostly. A door was lacking on the front entrance, being covered instead by strange vines glowing under the darkening sky. 

 

As they entered, Copia took note that the place was populated by ghouls similar to Phantom and Aether; similar hides, in purples and indigos; eyes shining like periwinkle spotlights over the group of 9 as they were led further inside. The populace regarded Aether with the ease of an old friend visiting from across the country. Copia supposed he was. Though they cast scornful and suspicious glances over the rest of them, narrowed eyes offering not a lot of comfort. Even Phantom appeared on edge, wasn't he quintessence? Copia wondered after his nerves. But Aether appeared to brush away those more vocal about their disapproval of housing 7 other elements under their refuge, a singular look seeming to do the trick. Copia found himself smirking at that, having been on the receiving end of that glare more than a few times. 

 

Copia always had trouble sleeping. So as the rest of his pack dozed in a deeper section of the area—cozied up to one another like he'd so often see around the den at the Ministry. Copia wasn't sure how they found it comfortable—he took it upon himself to scurry away somewhere to be alone. 

 

Maybe, he thought, something familiar might help clear his mind; push away the lingering thoughts of anxiety that tingled at the forefront of his brain. Copia wasn't unused to that feeling, however; the ever insistent burn of wrongdoing pressed heavily against the base of his neck like the weight of the world had sat right there, burning like liquor in the space between his brows. It only appeared to worsen after he’d changed, burning turning to a sharp point of pain behind his eye that spread across the left half of his face, hindering work and sleep—what little sleep he did get, that is—more than he was used to. In the back of his mind, Copia had filed away a small note to send for Aether or maybe Phantom to will away his bouts of restlessness; however, he’d never gotten around to actually doing that. 

 

Copia shook his head to clear away a bit of the tingle, chirping softly into the soft breeze in front of him. While inherently unfamiliar, the outstretch of branches and other miscellaneous foliage filled in for the familiarity of the Abbey grounds at night, offering just a bit of home—even if looked just a bit off. Trees—could they be called that?—stretched like mangled fingers toward the sky above, as if they were able to touch the twinkling stars above. Copia had been frankly surprised to see the sky after the “sun” had gone down. It looked about as normal as the one at home did, same black sky, and same white specks. 

 

He’d never really taken the time to admire the night sky, too wrapped up in the day’s work to even lift his concentration enough to spare a glance out his window. Not that it would’ve really mattered; he kept the curtains drawn more often than not—the dark easing the intense aches over his body. Dark was a solace—a friend—that he often ran back to over and over, a gentle place that wrapped its cold and slightly off putting fingers around him and didn’t let go until he had to pry them off. Sometimes it was a suffocating presence. The ever insistant curl of the deep void like a great flood throughout his office.; like he might not be able to take in enough air—lungs expanding, but nothing entering. But other times, the dark provided a familiar that Copia hadn’t found nearly anywhere else; a balm that smoothed over his body like water from a showerhead. 

 

The darkness that night, while off putting and a bit heavy, felt just as familiar as Copia could’ve hoped for. The soft crunch of his boots against the curling grass—he actually wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but there were blades so he assumed grass would be appropriate. Although, it wasn’t the least bit green—the coolness of a breeze, and the sights around him reminded him of home, and that’s mostly what he had wanted after sneaking away from his group. 

 

There had been a nagging feeling of dread that came and went in the prior months, since he’d first been summoned to the common room actually. Although, his traverse with Special hadn’t necessarily helped in calming anything down. They hadn’t had many conversations together, but in the few they did have, Copia could sense a subtle feeling of resentment—or something similar he couldn’t quite place. There was always a tenuous snip at the end of his sentences, as if he wanted to cut any interaction short to return to whatever obviously important job he needed to do. Copia didn’t like him. He thought the ghoul-human masquerade was weird and mysteriously off putting to be around. And he’d gotten—in the few conversations he did have—into several…mistakes with Special that he’d rather just forget about—more than one instance left him annoyed and intrigued, though Copia would never admit to it and he certainly would never seek out the human-ghoul. 

 

He shook his shoulders to rid the thought from his mind, however the lingering anxiety stayed, ebbing and simmering like oh-so-many pots of pasta forgotten in lieu of professional matters. It’d really only gotten worse since they’d landed, changing into a hot feeling. Copia hadn’t really experienced hot flashes in his late years, but he supposed it felt similar. Though, he wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn't tied to his new element. While he often dwelled on things that weren’t completely in his control, Copia found himself thinking more and more often as of late of the consequences that could befall his partners in the aftermath of all this; of the beings that might take his pack—partners, mates, lovers —away from him. Copia often catastrophized scenarios of similar nature, he’d not thought so deeply or felt such embedded dread for years and years. He felt it so deep inside that he figured it must have branded his bones by then, searing the intense and unwavering emotions there for whomever might come across his cadaver; to read the fleeting thoughts in his brain like the pages of a book. 

 

Dying was a big picture in his brain, something that coveted his waking mind even during the mundane. Copia couldn’t really recall the last time he’d not thought about it, even for just a moment. The concept wasn’t always an all-seeing being to him—pressing on his chest until it squeezed out all the tears it might want to collect. Sometimes it felt abstract, something he couldn’t grasp the meaning of, but understood it was there nonetheless. Other times, he felt he could reach out and touch it, and it would be cold and all consuming; eating him whole like so many whales he’d heard about—maybe it was just the one, he didn’t know, or really care. On rare occasions, Copia had needed to be rescued from his thoughts, scaring his partners into hysterics until he could reassure them that he was fine and not to worry anymore. Although, he could see the growing concern in their eyes the longer he spoke. He didn’t often think about how the end might come for him—really he did, but he chose to force those thoughts away with work—though when that did get the better of him, Copia resigned himself away to his room to at least try and shut that door tight. 

 

The stomping of his boots came to a halt as he reached a dead end. The toes of his shoes pointed toward a small peninsula jutting into a still lake, shimmering a deep purple under the starlight. Quiet, and the waves splashed loudly against the lip of the outcropping. It was serene in a way Copia wasn’t used to, but accepting of it nonetheless. Hidden away from the main path, Copia decided to take a seat for a moment—most likely longer than that, time wasn’t exactly his forte—and think. Just think, nothing else. 

 

Though, Copia found thinking harder than it used to be; that intense dread culminating into an abstract concept instead of something he might be able to pinpoint and study. Sometimes that happened, nervous energy flitting out just as quickly as it entered. But when it happened, Copia always found himself searching for rescue. Still, he found himself thinking of the events that lead him there, sitting on that deserted ledge and staring deep into the lake as if something might rise up and speak to him. Maybe he was waiting for that; someone to come to him and tell him everything would turn out alright. Perhaps his years present self-loathing returned then, just for a minute, to remind him that his chances were slim at best. 

 

While Copia didn't think of them particularly often—well, what he thought as often—they appeared in his mind's eye then; his brothers. Standing there, feet planted across the surface of the water as they stared down at him. He imagined their faces, the expressions they might wear. Primo, unreadable but at the same time soft and nurturing. Secondo, Copia pictured, might've been stoic; commanding but strangely understanding. And Terzo, wearing his heart practically on his sleeve—at least the parts of it he was willing to show to Copia—smiling down at him with an inspiring sort of pity. 

 

They'd sit with him, like they all used to do when he was younger, and tell him that he made the right choice; that this was the right path for him. 

 

That he could do this.

 

But they didn't say that, because they weren't there on the lake. Copia sat there alone, feet dangling under the surface of the water. When he'd taken his boots off, he didn't remember; but the water underneath the lake tingled pleasantly, soothing the heat of his skin and bubbling up steam where his ankles met the surface tension. While fatigue pulled at every nerve in his body, tugging his limbs to sleepy numbness, Copia was content to just sit there for a bit longer; to just be with his thoughts and himself until he felt ready again to join his ghouls. An escape from steadily riding anxiety that had been tickling his brain since that afternoon. The shock of the lake was a temporary balm, and Copia wished to exploit that for however long he might be able to. 

 

In his stewing, Copia neglected to notice the sound of crunching gravel behind him; the crescendoing volume of voices just above his head, rumbling like thunder until Copia felt it in his chest. 

 

Copia whipped around, damn near tumbling into the lake to see who was sneaking up on him; although, sneaking was a bit of an overstatement. He flailed wildly, arms swishing about bear his sides as his ass teetered on the edge of the ledge. It was, admittedly, quite comical. Although, Copia's heart raced as if he were driving down the highway and he didn't think that was very funny. 

 

“Sweet Satan in Hell!” Copia exclaimed, scrambling to his feet in surprise. A silence stretched between the figures standing before him, the subtle tink of phosphorescent water knocking against the gravel like the head of Mountain's drumstick against his snare drum being the loudest sound there. “...Fratelli? I miei fratelli?” Copia murmured in awe. 

 

Sure enough, there were three figures before him. Each wore the appearance of a brother. Primo stood hunched in the middle, frozen in his old years, but he housed a bright smile across his face, paints still pristine as Copia remembered them being. As Primo had aged, he'd entrusted the youngest to draw on the lines for him, hands trembling far too much to do it himself. Copia had been eternally grateful for the opportunity and had begun pretty much immediately. Primo had regaled him with many stories of when he was, uh, younger; and when he'd performed onstage. The aging pope had further returned Copia's efforts in his own way, bringing the then Cardinal to his gardens and allowing him a quiet space to just be. As Copia had currently been doing before having the heart attack of the century. 

 

Secondo stood imposing to his right, arms crossed and expression unreadable. Though, upon looking closer, Copia noted relief sparkling in the middle son's eyes. It was an odd thing to see from him at least. When Copia had known him in his younger years, the second pope had been continuously short with him; cordial, but short—not unlike the unfortunate height of his brother. It was unfortunate—and not just because Terzo couldn't grow a couple inches—because Copia had looked up to him as a sort of parental figure. Not that he didn't feel that way with Primo, because he did. Maybe his intense want to be accepted by Secondo came from his repeated denial by the other father figures in his life, the ones who chastised and ostracized him whenever they got the chance. Copia had run to the second brother when he was young, but most especially before his teen years to present him with things he'd made or small awards he'd won in the hope that he might crack even just a small smile from the man. He'd never really managed that however, and eventually Copia had given up. Now that he was there, really there, Copia had wished he'd tried just a little harder. 

 

Terzo was the last and he stood to Primo's left, hands behind his back and head tilted just a little to his right; peaking at the dumbfounded antipope before him. Terzo looked almost smug, wearing a smirk Copia knew all too well and clearly pleased they'd managed to freak him out. Copia had known Terzo the best out of the three of them, spending most of his limited free time as a Cardinal with the man. Terzo, while always kind to him, was a bit tricky; teasing the Cardinal for his escapades—or lack thereof—until he stormed away in a huff. Though, Copia had learned to mock him back and the pair had taken to teaming up in performing tricks on other members of the Clergy. They'd often be seen snickering and sneaking away while a disgruntled higher member shouted after them. It was one of the few things Copia looked forward to, because at least Terzo didn't look down on him for who he was. 

 

Maybe that was why Copia felt such otherworldly surprise at seeing the three of them. They who hadn't mocked him, had lifted him up when he was knocked down. 

 

“Fratelli,” Copia whispered, great tears welling into his eyes. “You…you all came back?” The spade of his tail flicked back and forth, swishing softly across the water and dragging up purple droplets that had mixed with the subtle sparks flitting off the end of the spade. An overwhelming sense of purpose covered him like a blanket and Copia found himself running to them, desperate to know if they were really there. 

 

The three of them opened their arms for him and he fell into them. Overwhelmed by their arms, Copia choked on his sobs, whining and chittering in ways he wasn't used to. Raw, deep emotions ebbed from all four of them, each of their tears landing over the ground in colorful puddles. Cries of “ You really came back” pulled at each of their hearts, and the group sunk to the ground below. 

 

“Yes, Fratellino,” Terzo murmured, voice thick with emotion. “We came back,” Copia whined something infernal, pointed ears twitching as a hand smoothed over his hair—the small bit that wasn't covered by his horn. He sniffled and lifted his head, eyes glowing bright with unshed tears. Copia sighed a deep, heavy sigh he hadn't had in years; like a weight was lifted from his shoulders or a boulder was taken off his chest. 

 

“Look at you all,” Copia whispered, the awe still present in his voice. The four of them laughed softly as Copia gazed at each of them. They all wore bright smiles, youthful in the way they each appeared to be emitting a soft light. Terzo cast a soft purple over his left, Primo projected a gentle red, and Secondo emitted a deep green across his right side. They were mesmerizing, like the depictions Copia had read of Jesus Christ, the ways people would talk of light. He used to think it was Christian bullshit. Maybe in a way it was, but maybe Copia could've believed it then. He could've laughed aloud at the absurdity of him thinking that, in the ghoulish form he was and sitting in front of three Satanic popes. 

 

“Look at us ?” Secondo rumbled and he chuckled softly, a sound Copia was not used to. “Look at you, piccolo!” The second brother hovered a leather-clad hand over one of Copia's curling horns, marveling at the lavender hue it projected onto the palm of his hand. Copia snorted and pressed his head upward, nuzzling against the man's hand. “You've got horns now?” Secondo laughed in disbelief, tracing the ridges across the surface of Copia's horn. 

 

“Ai, they're not anything to write home about, Non è niente di speciale,” Copia murmured bashfully; though, a soft purr rumbled from his chest anyway. “They can become quite cumbersome, actually,” He continued. There was a time shortly after his transformation—a learning period, however he was still learning many things—where he'd become increasingly frustrated in doing basic things. Dressing himself had become a nightmare. Even just finding clothes that would compensate for a new tail or that might fit over his horns was time consuming. Copia was grateful for his ghoul's help in that scenario, borrowing quite a bit from them until he could figure out how to slip the buttons of his shirt through the holes without ripping the sensitive fabric. 

 

“And your fangs, Papa!” Primo whispered. Copia chuckled awkwardly as the eldest pressed up on the left of his top lip, brandishing a pair of glinting, sharp teeth, mirrored on the other side. Copia opened his mouth in an awkward sort of smile, trying, at least, not to salivate over his brother's thumb by accident. He wasn't used to any of his brothers using his title. Well, of course he wasn't. Even then, someone about it felt strange. Not necessarily wrong. But strangely, as if Copia were wearing his parent's clothes; trying to seem older than he was. Though, he was plenty old enough to be a parent himself. Copia felt a little unworthy hearing that title from Primo's mouth especially. Something felt wrong about it. 

 

Copia's tongue, forked and thin, flicked against Primo's fingers the longer he pried; and the eldest retracted his hands with a soft chuckle. “Mi dispiace, Copia,” Primo rumbled and, with the drama that only a brother might have, wiped his fingertips across Copia's shoulder. Copia squealed and hissed, but without malice, delighting in the laughs he'd pulled from the three of them. 

 

“My my, Fratellino!” Terzo marveled at the youngest's flicking tail, poking at the spaded end of it. “You look like Omega,” He laughed, grasping the appendage in his gloved hands. Copia grumbled at the quip and the end of his tail fidgeted in Terzo's grasp, but he ultimately slumped anyway. Terzo continued to inspect it, eyes wide in wonder. The sensation of fabric against his skin there was odd and Copia shuffled uncomfortably. “Mi dispiace, fratello,” Terzo murmured distantly. He turned up his palms, allowing the appendage to slide over his hands before ultimately thumping against the gravel. “It's just, um, it's been a while, I suppose,” He mumbled. Copia noticed a flash of something far away in the third's eye, familiar but far away; and then he remembered. 

 

Copia hadn't been there the night they'd sent Omega away, much that he hadn't been there when Terzo was taken away too, but he'd been informed firsthand about it; but especially not to let on what he knew. Keeping such a huge secret like that, from someone he looked up to, was…difficult. Copia had chosen to resign himself away from his brother until he felt he wouldn't run his mouth. In passing, Copia could see the hurt lingering behind Terzo's confident facade; could practically feel his depression at having not only lost his closest partner, but one of his best friends as well. Copia hadn't been able to bring himself out of it and then it was too late; and he didn't like to think about it after that. 

 

Copia had sent for Omega in the after, writing letters and phoning any congregation he could find to see which had taken the quint. But he'd not had any luck, and at that point he figured the poor ghoul had been banished back to Hell. 

 

Copia's expression settled into something softer, and he opened his arms for Terzo to come to; which he did, gratefully. Though, not without mumbling something Copia didn't catch but felt the challenge in. 

 

“You are nervous, aren't you, Copia?” Secondo spoke up. Copia's tail twitched at the question and he chuffed against Terzo's hair, lifting his head up to spare a glance over there. 

 

With the raise of a brow: “What do you think?” He snipped, and his expression fell instantly, confidence cracked at the tone of his own voice. “Yes! I am terribly nervous!” Copia whined and his grasp of Terzo's shoulders tightened slightly, claws just barely poking into his jacket. “Ai, I am terrified , my brothers,” He finished, ears pinned tight against his skull. 

 

He jolted slightly at the touch of a hand landing on his shoulder, meeting the gaze of the eldest. “It is alright to be nervous, Copia,” Primo whispered. A rattling sigh escaped him and his gaze traveled to the surface of the lake behind them. “You have beings you can lean on,” He began. “I know this all sounds like something out of a Charles Dicken story,” Copia snorted and followed his gaze, the gentle ripples of the purple liquid were soothing. “But, truly, they will keep you safe if you remember them. Just as you would them. They trust you, we've seen it. Seen the ways you all interact and the things you do together,” A soft sigh, less congested, tittered over Copia's head. It sounded fond, longing. “I wished we could have gone to your shows,” Primo murmured. There was a wetness in his voice that hadn't been present before, and Copia saw, upon looking back, a stray tear dripped down the first's cheek, streaking paint in a foggy sort of way. 

 

Copia had spent many nights on his first tour searching for his brothers in the crowd, scanning the masses of painted faces for just a glimpse of them. His relief had always vanished noticing the figures were just another fan in the sea in front of him. It was always heartbreaking. And it only worsened when Imperator announced the three glass coffins that would accompany him for the future. They'd chased after him for the remainder of his “showbiz” life, taunting and scowling at him for his mistake. 

 

“Wish we could've seen how far you've come in person,” Primo continued. “Seven years is a long time, fratello,” Copia couldn't help but agree. He'd been lost without the three of them; searching all over for guidance, for routine, for anything. It'd broken him and he didn't want to think about it anymore. “Copia,” Primo looked down at him then, his eyes sharp and youthful suddenly. “You understand that, despite some…unfortunate circumstances, we all will still hold you dear to us; will all still love you like our brother,” Copia had to look away, eyes misty all of a sudden. He swore it was just fatigue. Primo chuckled softly and ruffled his hair like he used to when they were younger. 

 

"Sì, yes, fratello,” Copia stuttered. “I…I do know that,” 

 

Primo sat back and appeared to be done, hands folded neatly in his lap as he looked expectantly at the other two. Secondo apparently was next. 

 

“You must, however, stay vigilant,” He rumbled, features set in a stoic expression. Though, Copia could feel the pride his brother radiated. “There will come a time when you must remember to look out for yourself first, the others will follow. As they always do,” The second cast a subtle grin down at him and Copia found himself slightly at ease. “Betrayal is a mean thing, but it doesn't always have to be premeditated,” He continued thoughtfully. It was more thoughtful than Copia had really ever seen from him growing up. There were select moments he could recall with Secondo, moments where he'd hear those deeper thoughts. But he could probably count on one hand the amount of time that happened. “Remember that sometimes, life can betray you in ways you'd never think about; so be prepared for that,” Copia nodded, moreso a salute if he really thought about it; but he supposed that might have been appropriate for the situation anyway.

 

Copia had hoped the deep-set anxiety he had been feeling hadn't been something else; something predictable. He'd wished it was just cold feet and that it'd pass. But Secondo had gotten the gears turning in his brain once again. When they managed to deliver him to Him— if they managed—what big thing was going to happen there? Something had to happen there. That's what they all showed up for. But, Copia couldn't help but wonder who was going to be taken from him. 

 

“Life works in strange ways,” Secondo murmured, head turned away in thought. “We can see you always-” Terzo coughed deliberately from where his head lay spread over Copia's thighs. “-Almost always. And you see us sometimes, don't you?” Copia nodded softly. He did see them. More when he was still a Cardinal, but Copia couldn't deny the flickers out of the corners of his eyes at night; or during the day…or at mass…or really ever. They were there. And he knew it. “But we cannot talk to you, to anyone, anymore. Like we do not exist and can only observe,”

 

“Oh…” Copia murmured sadly. “I am- I am sorry,” His gaze fell on each of them, projecting lavender and orange over their faces. 

 

Secondo offered a dismissive shrug. “Don't apologize for something out of your control, Copia. Makes me feel worse,” Copia chittered questioningly and he narrowed his eyes at the second. “I wanted to tell you that I'm…proud of you. Really, I am,” Copia perked, and Secondo chuckled at the quickly swishing tail behind him. “When we were younger, I held a bit of jealousy in my heart because of our parents. It seemed unfair that we—that I —couldn't have a relationship like you did with our mother; it was frustrating, and I guess I felt like it was your fault,” Copia smiled despite himself. 

 

In their youth, he'd guessed that Secondo just didn't like him; didn't like that he was born because of who his father was. It was terribly crushing and Copia found himself hiding whenever he heard the second's voice. 

 

“But, as we grew up a little, I had begun to hope you'd have taken something from that; not really ‘learned’, but taken something. And that it might have left you with a steadier head on your shoulders. That you could defend yourself,” Secondo shrugged again, appearing uncomfortable despite the openness surrounding them. 

 

“Maybe it worked,” Copia smiled up at him and lightly tapped him on the arm. 

 

“Hopefully it did,” Terzo jumped in, shuffling against his perch on the ground as he stared distantly up at the night sky. Upon seeing Copia's amused confusion, he continued, “You gotta be a fighter, fratellino! You know-” He made a motion akin to choking someone. “Bite it in the ass before it gets yours, and we all know how much you value yours,” The group of them snickered as Copia protested bashfully. Terzo waved a hand up near Copia's nose to grab his attention. “Alright alright, mostly value,” He yelped when Copia smacked him upside the head. “Hey, I know you've got a mean streak, Papa,” Terzo frowned up at him dramatically, but continued anyway. “Fighting got me to at least some good spots. So you gotta decide when you're gonna make the decision to be good or bad, Male o no, sì?” 

 

“Oh, Terzito, I don't know,” Copia muttered. Certainly, he could be more forceful with people if he really wanted to, but when did he ever want to? “I'm not a fighter,”

 

“Well, you gotta be now!” Terzo threw up his arms dramatically. “This is your one shot to stick it to someone worth sticking it to,” There was a soft hint of sadness in his voice, or perhaps regret. Something Copia could relate to. There had been many nights Copia had crept from his room to slip down the darkened halls of the Abbey, hoping to shake off a nightmare, when he'd hear shouting from around the corner. Curious as he was, Copia would peer around it to see his brother there, in a screaming match with his parents. Apparently, they wished to see who could get the loudest, and Copia would always be amazed the whole grounds weren't awake and watching the spectacle each time it happened. They'd grown in frequency when Omega had been sent away however, and Copia had to pull himself from watching, the guilt too much to handle. 

 

“You miss him, don't you Terzito?” Copia whispered, casting a gentle glance down at the third. “You hold regret in your heart for not fighting, not fighting enough,” Terzo stayed silent for a moment, studying the stars like they might provide the answer. Yes it was true. He'd spent most of his afterlife searching Earth for the quint, hoping to catch even just a glimpse of him one more time. It ate him up inside, and he'd stayed awake—not that he really needed sleep anyway—thinking about him. 

 

A sigh. “When I first summoned my ghouls, I hadn't expected anything more than a boss-employee relationship; something like that at least. Secondo and Primo had mentioned something like that,” The other two offered sad smiles. “But as our performances progressed, I couldn't help but feel just a small tug of longing—or um, I don't know really,” 

 

He seemed uncomfortable, shuffling like he might get up and run if something as much as twitched wrong. “But, uh, it was there! And I could tell he felt it too. It's not hard to tell with quintessence ghouls,” Copia chuckled softly. Yeah, that was certainly true. When he'd first pushed with Aether, feelings practically consumed him when they were together. “So naturally, things had progressed—as I'm sure you've, um, heard around—and we stuck together. Like glue,” Terzo paused for a long minute, gathering his thoughts. “It wasn't technically ‘legal’ you know; to be with a ghoul, that is. When the Clergy found out, they threatened to banish him. But, I fought them. Very hard, because I loved him,” 

 

One of Copia's hands settled in Terzo's hair, stroking softly to soothe. The gloves restricted much of his fingers mobility as the claws stretched the material to its near limits; and Copia really thought about cutting the fingers off of them. 

 

“He meant the world to me, they all did, but ‘Mega especially,” Terzo whispered. Copia caught the tremble in his voice and he swore his heart broke. “He changed me in ways I didn't think could be changed, Copia,” He sighed. Copia reached down and wiped a stray tear from his cheek, breaking the dam as more chased after it. Terzo sniffed and closed his eyes for a moment. “But you know what? Seeing you out there, with Aether, it makes it somehow a little better. I'm very pleased that you've found similar trust in them like me, and even more that you've, uh, I guess legalized your relationships,” 

 

Copia lowered his gaze away. He supposed that was true. Of course, he'd fought tooth and nail to get it that way, preaching that everyon e was welcome to love under the Clergy. Including his pack of lovely ghouls. And ultimately, he was given the go ahead. Copia snorted and lifted the third up and into another crushing embrace, tail curling around his arm tight. 

 

“I'm proud of you, Copia. We all are. I'm proud of your showmanship, your dancing has certainly improved from our ballet classes,” Copia laughed against Terzo's shoulder. “But I can tell the influences there too. And your voice? Molto bene! Meraviglioso! I might be jealous, fratellino!” Copia pushed him playfully and rolled his eyes at the praise. 

 

“Ai, no one could beat you three,” Though, he still felt the soft blush of embarrassment under his painted cheeks. “So hush, uh! No more! I am simply relieved and joyful you've all come back,” Copia could feel the facade breaking and his eyes filling with tears once again. And he figured he might as well let them fall. The group embraced once again, tight as if they would all disappear once again if they ever let go. 

 

“Papa, Copia,” Secondo began. “It's time for us to go,” Sadness, hesitance, and Copia felt it too. “You need to go to your ghouls again. Go and save everyone like we know you can,”

 

“And just remember, we're always just a call away if you need us, fratellino,”

 

Copia watched with a deep sense of confidence as his brothers vanished, fading out like fog under the summer sun. 

 

And he thought maybe it might be time for him to go too.

Notes:

POV: you only wanted 4k words and wrote 7k
I'm sure I got personalities wrong, I haven't written for the other three in a long time lol
k bye

Chapter 8: 8

Notes:

Heyyyy
Fair warning, this chapter is explicit; so proceed with caution even though it's not really ^that^ bad IMO
I wanted, again, to add a second scene in this chapter because I feel like the one scene per chapter thing is boring to me, but I feel like this one specifically should be highlighted on its own because of the things mentioned in it; the deeper meanings, not the surface level stuff.
Anyway, happy reading!

Spotify link, as always: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NngQfQZS3aVQCiZ2lg4hO?si=lTpj6e9XRgul7U1gwiwBeg

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

“You are both, eh, okay with this?” Copia mumbled where he lay squished between Aether and Dew. He'd come back from the lake to be greeted by them, slightly frantic as they searched for him; though, he’d dismissed their fussing because he was fine. So, after bashful reassurance, they had gone back to a more secluded area of the nest. Just the three of them, like before; and they lay like they used to, Copia pressed side to chest with Aether, head rested on the ghoul's broad chest, with Dew curled against his back. The hot press of his hand across his side a welcome feeling. 

 

Dew wasn't particularly hot to him anymore—temperature wise that is. He'd always be attractive to the him—their body temperatures close to matching, but Copia would always feel the heated press of his palm. Sometimes, if the ghoul felt compelled enough—and he usually did—he'd slide his hand under the hem of his Papa's shirt and leave a print of his hand there, red and angry and perfect. A welcome embellishment on his otherwise pale skin.

 

Copia preened as Aether scratched softly at his scalp, a gentle sigh easing past his lips at the tickling sensation. “What do you mean? We do this all the time,” Aether chuckled and lifted his head to glance down at the hybrid currently half awake on his chest. A chorus of soft purring reverberated against the crumbling walls of the room, emanating from all three entities as they half snoozed. 

 

“No, uh,” Copia snorted, tail leaving a gentle smack against Aether's shin. The ghoul chuckled softly and Copia could feel the vibrations spread throughout his skull. “I meant with…eh, this —everything else happening,” Copia waved his arms as if that might offer some explanation. The hybrid lifted his head to look the quint in the eye, gaze hard and serious. 

 

“Yeah, of course,” Aether responded simply, brows raised in confusion. Copia chewed his lip, catching it between his fangs for a moment. Truthfully, Aether was not completely alright with their whole plan; never was in the first place. But he also knew just how much help everyone needed down there and he could never stand by and just let them die without at least trying to help. It was in his nature, he couldn't help it. 

 

Aether placed two hands around Copia's waist as he shifted to sit up a bit more, dislodged Dewdrop in the process; who stirred a bit more and not without complaint. The firm presses of Aether's hands were usually a balm, soothing his aching muscles and adding his own magical touch. But there, they were a safety net, something Copia could feel and hold onto to stamp out the bonfire of nerves inside him. He always enjoyed that feeling of closeness, and Copia did little to stop the soft blush that filtered onto his cheeks; visible now that his paint had been removed. Most of it anyway. 

 

“You can't back out now, Papa. We're already down here,” Dew murmured to his right, chest pressed warmly against Copia's arm. The ghoul's eyebrows were knit together tight, concern evident in his sharp features. Copia could spend hours mapping those features out. He had on many occasions; laying next to his ghoul, tracing over hollow cheekbones, pointed jaw and nose, studying golden eyes. It was one of his favorite things to do. And he particularly enjoyed seeing the twitches in the ghoul's eyes or lips, betraying his true emotions. 

 

Copia shook his head. “I'm not- I'm not backing out,” He huffed unconvincingly. “I just…I don't know,” He sighed and shrugged. That was it, he didn't know. Didn't know if this was the right choice, didn't know if he was playing the right part, didn't know if he could go on knowing that something was most definitely going to happen to them. He couldn't live with himself if something did. A deep sigh drew him out of his stupor. 

 

“You're thinking about it again, aren't you?” Dew whispered. The ghoul pushed forward slightly, skimming up the side of Papa's neck with the tip of his nose. “About the ‘what if's,” Copia shivered softly and his neck tilted routinely. While Copia tried his best not to outwardly project his mounting fears, they could all feel it; could practically see it written on his face even. It was frustrating especially for his mates, having to watch the inner war happening within him without the ability to help. Copia could be too stubborn for his own good sometimes; too unwilling to ask for help. 

 

Copia whined softly at the question, incredulous and he looked away; much to the others’ dissatisfaction. Aether caught his chin between his claws, turning his gaze up with a bit more force than he'd have liked to use. “Copia,” He tried, sliding his other hand up the left side of the hybrid's body, pausing at his bicep. Copia sighed and shook his head softly. What could they possibly say that might alleviate his feelings? He felt low, lower.  

 

“I just…don't think I'm right for this, is all,” He murmured. It was quiet for a long moment, save for the sounds of their breathing and the quiet rusting of fabric as Aether rubbed gentle circles into Copia's arm. “...That something is gonna take you from me,” He finished. Aether caught a single tear as it slid between his fingers, glowing faintly in the otherwise dark room. 

 

“Here,” Aether grunted softly as he shifted, dislodged Copia from against his legs to turn him around. “Turn around like- Yeah, there you go,” He placed the now softly sobbing hybrid in his lap, spread out so Dew could slot himself between both sets of legs to lay against his chest. More comfortable that way, and Dew reached up to wipe some of his still flowing tears. “Starlight, we're not dead,” Aether whispered into his hair, nudging against the curl of one of his horns. “And you sure as hell won't catch us on the way there either,” Copia, still seeming unconvinced, offered a soft chuckle anyway. His eyes trained on where Dewdrop lay against his chest, gazes locked and challenging. 

 

“And what are you thinking of, little spark?” Copia murmured and he lifted the fire ghouls head up in his hands, shifting them just a bit closer. Dew smirked up at him and pressed forward, locking their lips together; all desperation and need.

 

Dew prided himself in his abilities to hide his vulnerability, most of it anyway. He'd hid behind moments like that for as long as he could remember, pouring unsaid emotions into something he knew how to navigate. He'd slipped up a couple of times when he was younger and he chose to block those moments out; fleeing the situation entirely instead of facing what he'd been fearing. There, however, kneeling in front of two of his closest partners, Dew felt the line blur slightly; and he wondered if he might give in that one time. 

 

“How pretty those tears look in your eyes,” He mumbled, lips still brushing. Dew could feel Copia's eyes rolling back into his skull and he grinned toothily. He decided that he had to kiss him again. So he did; open-mouthed that time, and he relished the quiet sigh he pulled from his superior's mouth. Dew pressed up slightly, shifting further into the negative space between his mate's thighs, and the answering squeeze he felt around his waist made him grin all over again. 

 

Aether, as he usually did, was content to watch their antics for the time being. While of course there was a tiny bit of him that had always wished to join in sooner, in his growing age, the large quint had found it increasingly difficult to “get it up” as they say. It had become a point of frustration for him, another irritation in his daily life to accompany the aches in his joints and the burning of his mind. Aether supposed he understood why Copia complained all the time. Though, Aether's frustration was deeper—sinking into the parts of his being that should've kept him younger; like a magical cure. It scared him to think that he might not be able to keep his body healing forever. Age was something foreign to him; and he dreaded seeing the deepening lines in Copia's face as much as he adored them. 

 

But he was content to watch them for a moment. Still, he couldn't stop himself from, “Don't you two look lovely, huh?” He smirked against Copia's neck at the shiver that trembled against his chest. “All trembling’ and needy,” Aether rumbled, shifting slightly against Copia's back. 

 

Copia whined, long and low, as he pulled away panting. His teeth itched at the comment, desperation to get closer—to consume —peaked, and Copia growled to himself at the feeling. He'd always hated that feeling, that he'd never be as close as his being craved. It tugged at him incessantly and at that moment, it only served to draw more tears from him. 

 

“Hey,” Dew nudged under his chin, tongue darting out to quickly lap at a tear streaking down Copia's neck. “We aren't leaving you, if you're still thinking about that, Papa,” The ghoul placed a gentle and fleeting kiss to the center of Copia's throat, trailing a quiet line of them across the left side; mirroring the quint on the other side. 

 

“Cazzo,” Copia swore silently and grasped Dew's waist tight, claws poking at the points of his hips. He pulled him close and whimpered at the subtle scrape of fangs across his throat. This wasn't fair, Copia thought. It wasn't fair that he couldn't enjoy a moment like this with his mates without the ever present feeling of worthlessness; the reminder of death just around the corner. Briefly, Copia craved the intense heat Dew's touch used to bring. He wondered if the faint scars still appeared by his thighs where the fire ghoul had accidentally burned him. Copia wished to feel that burn once again, a ground to hold onto within the whirlwind of emotions hurricaning around his skull. “Hotter, please hotter,” He whined and pressed Dew's hands under the ruffled hem of his shirt, urging the ghoul to burn him; even just a little. 

 

“Can't get much hotter than this, Papa,” Dew mumbled against his throat, though Copia did feel the temperature of his hands increase slightly. Copia hummed softly at the feeling, arching up into the heated touch eagerly. “‘less you're looking to get burned?” The fire ghoul hissed, a smile pressed to the outside of a pointed ear. It was a painful tease because it was true, and Copia scowled at him. Copia could argue until he was red in the face about how present his desires were, but even he knew it was true. 

 

“I think we all know the answer to that, don't we, Starlight?” Aether purred and Copia felt the urge to be upset at how easily they both fell into it. They always did, pulling Copia under the surface with them every time. They weren't always rough with each other. Sometimes the press of hands over skin was gentler, more measured, when they all felt like glass; wanting closeness but unwilling to say it. As they were then, though they could all tell the other wanted a firm hand instead, desperate to meld together and impatient to wait. 

 

“Yes,” It came out as a growl, punched out and primal as a set of pointed teeth sunk into the side of his neck. Copia groaned and his hips shot up against Dew's in front of him, much to the ghoul’s amusement. 

 

Dew snorted and retracted his hands, hushing the hybrid's fussing with an answering purr. “It'd be easier if you weren't wearing so many fuckin’ clothes, you know,” He muttered fondly as his fingers unclasped golden fasteners. The vest-bell sleeve combo was one of Dew's personal favorites from Copia's very extensive outfit collection. It really reminded him of the tight suits from years ago, leaving next to nothing to the imagination, and the ghoul had spent more than enough shows hiding his gazes from lingering too long; sliding his eyes too low, lest he pop an accidental surprise…again. 

 

The issue presented itself, however, in just how long it took to get him out of the damn things that Dewdrop considered slicing the front of the billowing shirt to get it off him. The wait was worth the reward though as Dew pressed his hands up against the pope's ribs, heating up his touch once more. Copia sobbed, loud wails dripping from his throat even as he pressed up harder against the ghoul's palms, pointed ears twitching and fluttering with it. Consuming and painful, but it satisfied the darker parts or Copia's being, tickling at the filth he kept locked far away in his ‘fucked up’ box. 

 

Copia loosed a low growl, jaw set and brow furrowed. A sudden anger had swept over him. Naturally, he had no clue what he could possibly be angry about—he was lying prone with his mates, what more could he want?—but it was there. The simmering heat of disdain. Or perhaps it was determination. Whatever it was, it set a fire inside Copia's chest that flared as anger. 

 

“Impatient, are we?’ Aether chuckled from behind him and shifted the ruffled collar of Copia's shirt away from his neck. Placed delicately at the bend of neck to shoulder, was a circular ring of scarred flesh; perfect in its imperfection. Once it had been a perfect picture of teeth, emblazoned on his skin for what they had both hoped forever. Though, it was difficult to tell just how long it stayed as Aether consistently reopened it when he got the chance; which was often enough, but not nearly as often as he'd prefer. Copia had mentioned to him years prior to keep it surface level, to keep the lingering pain as low as possible when performing. But, everyone gets carried away sometimes, and the flesh had scarred in a  beautifully macabre way; and Copia hadn't seemed to mind. If he did, he never mentioned it. 

 

Copia wore everyone's marks proudly. They were perfect reminders of his journeys with them. Every spat of hatred, every tender embrace, all of it. His human skin hadn't been a blank slate since he'd taken over the project, though the first couple marks had been more of a bitter reminder of his past than those the two ghouls were currently attempting to litter him with. 

 

Copia sighed at the gentle press of lips against various areas of his body, cold and hot, and he melted further into the large chest behind him. “My lovely ghouls…” Copia whispered absently, impatient but not willing to say it. Dew chuckled, breath caressing against Copia's waistline. He dipped the tips of his fingers underneath it, chirping in surprise at the feel of hot skin instead of cloth. 

 

Dew popped up briefly with a smirk, “Expecting somethin’ more tonight, huh Papa?” Copia rolled his eyes but the flush was unmistakable, lighting up his cheeks a bright red. The pope lifted a finger to tickle under the ghoul's chin. 

 

“Wouldn't you like to find out?” He quipped in response. Copia shifted against him, legs splaying open further. He grinned toothily at the demon's smirk as Dew slotted between his legs once again, claws making quick work of the lacing holding the pope's fly closed. 

 

“Actually, we would,” Aether rumbled behind him, a hint of a growl evident in his tone. Copia shivered at the scrape of teeth against his shoulder, muscles seizing in anticipation. Aether chuckled darkly behind him as he watched the hybrid squirm. It felt instinctual to watch him; something like a wolf hunting a rabbit. Aether certainly felt that much bigger than him; than both of them actually. The difference he felt was that Dew could actually take him on—had multiple times. The little fire ghoul could certainly pack a mean punch in a sparring match, and Aether wasn't too keen on remembering that. Especially at his age—could overpower Papa easily. He chose not to think about it that way. But every nerve in his body lit up with the need to puncture his skin, his teeth itched with it. Copia chirped inquisitively and went to twist around to look at him when Aether whined. Though, his mobility was held short by the ghoul's hand as he rubbed his nose against reddened skin. 

 

“Go ahead, my lovely Etere,” Copia murmured. He hissed at the sharp feeling of teeth against muscle, jerking in their grasps for a moment. Generally the sensation wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't unwelcome either. Uncomfortable, but mostly painless. In moments like that, however, the pain was welcomed wholly; spreading a white heat across the right shoulder to ultimately zip down to his cock, tingling gently there in a pleasant, sort of messed up way. 

 

Dew—having fished him out of his pants by then—had been delivering light slow strokes to both their needs, groaning softly to himself as he watched the sluggish drip of red sliding down the center of Copia's chest. Tantalizing, and Dew couldn't help the quiet growl that trailed up his throat. 

 

Truthfully, and he was genuine in his thoughts, Dew didn't mean to feel jealous of them. They were mated together, of course they were going to indulge in that, and in front of whoever they wanted to. But there was still a small part of him that was screaming, wailing, wishing to be like them; to hold Copia like that and have him feel the things he felt with Aether. Though, Aether was his mate too. But, to Dew, their relationship was different; more possessive and carnal rather than gentle and intimate. 

 

Dew knew that wasn't his M.O.; knew he could never treat Papa with as much grace as Aether did. He'd tried before, but they had both agreed that it felt too odd, like someone wearing a mask instead of Dew's authentic self. So they didn't try. Dew was affectionate in his own special way, often leaving Copia covered in bleeding marks that he'd spend an extra hour or two cleaning, and Copia would always stroke his hair and whisper things Dew didn't dare think about for too long. 

 

But still, Dew couldn't—and frankly didn't—stop himself from letting out a quiet, but noticeable, growl at the scene in front of him; and he rolled his eyes lightly at the grin that stretched across Copia's face as he noticed. The hybrid reached a slightly shaking hand down to settle in Dew's braided hair as the fire ghoul slid onto his stomach. 

 

“Come now, lucciola-” Copia began. He paused with a sharp intake of breath at the feel of Dew's forked tongue as it laved across his dripping head, lapping gently at the sensitive underside for a brief moment. “You didn't think we'd ever leave you out, would you?” Dew scoffed softly at the smile clearly evident in his voice and dipped his head back down. Copia was never fond of receiving, from really anyone. He felt helpless, not knowing where to put his hands or what to do. It was awkward for him, and he would frankly rather watch his partners squirm because of him than the other way around. And, of course, it was no different then. He squirmed in Aether's lap as Dew continued further down, tongue licking at the bridge of skin between his entrance and balls. 

 

Copia lurched forward at the contact, hissing at the feeling and curling his claws into the ghoul's hair; twisting up the braid he'd spent all of ten seconds doing. 

 

“Hey, droplet,” Aether murmured, grinning wide at the furrow that appeared between the ghoul's brows at the name. Eyes glowing like embers shot a glare up at the quint, and a singular brow raised in question. “Would you be so kind and help me open him up? You know, for later,” Copia shivered at the thought, and once more at the feeling of a tongue brushing against his hole. Not entirely unusual, Dew often spent most of their time together down there anyway, but it was surprising when two rough fingers joined in their prodding as well; and Copia whimpered. A gentle hand carded through his hair followed by a, “Shh, just relax,” and Copia found himself smiling, even at the uncomfortable burn of Aether's fingers; eased only by Dew's heated tongue. 

 

Copia found they were always as complementary like this as they were on stage, passing rhythms and pulses around like clockwork, leaving their hybrid lightheaded within it all. They were always captivating to witness onstage. Copia had found himself watching and rewatching videos and clips of his two ghouls frolicking about with each other on stage; the touching, the nuzzling, the few times they'd been so bold as to almost touch lips in front of thousands. Copia swore he'd seen them actually do it once or twice. But he was always observant; watching, studying.  

 

He'd figured out generally what made them all tick, the things he could say to each of them to have the outcomes he might be fishing for. However, Copia was also socially awkward; and he'd always had a difficult time remembering how to use these skills to his advantage in the moment. But he did know them, and knew them both very well; and he was grateful for that knowledge in moments like this, when the room felt just a bit hotter and his skin felt just a bit electric. 

 

Especially electric as the slicked head of a cock rested impatiently against his stretched entrance, poking against it as Dew sat up; staring . Copia found himself captivated by the ghoul's intense stare, ember eyes swirling something bright as his gaze bore into the hybrids abdomen; watching as he and Aether joined together—became one once again. 

 

Aether was as gentle as he could be in his growing haste, pressing in slow and practically choking on the whimpers coming from his mate. Aether truly didn't think he'd ever get used to that feeling, and he was perfectly fine with that. He just hoped Copia felt the same, lest he accidentally harm him in a way not wanted. Though, Copia didn’t think there really was a way for Aether to hurt him that he wouldn’t want; practically willing to rip open his ribcage himself just for his ghoul to see. 

 

Aether groaned as he seated fully inside, holding tight against Copia’s hips as he shuddered with it. Even when theyn were both much younger, Aether still found the sensations just as overwhelming as he did then; constricting and pulsing in all the right ways that he thought he might finish just from that. Sometimes, Copia would notice—would tease him about it until Aether was left laughing too—and he’d deny it until his face turned that lovely shade of lavender Copia always pointed out. 

 

A snicker from lower down the mess of limbs caught his attention and Aether glanced between his lashes to catch Dew snickering at him. “Finished already, old man?” Dew crooned, grin wide enough to reach his ears. Aether narrowed his eyes at the little fire ghoul, ears twitching flat against his skull in his embarrassment. He hadn’t really been doing much more than kneeling between Papa’s legs, need enclosed firmly in his fist as he watched the mated pair; observed. But still, Dew couldn’t stop the occasional jest from escaping him, they’d understand he was just teasing. “I mean,” He began, crawling further up into their space. Copia huffed a soft breath at the heated touches across his waist, fingertips caressing against where Aether’s lay embedded. “If you’re not up for it…” Dew trailed and laughed darkly at the answering growl left behind. 

 

“No…” Aether snarled and Copia twitched at the prick of claws. Dew grinned wide, lifting one of the quint’s hands to lace their fingers together; gentle and strangely soft for the otherwise incandescent ghoul. While his expression still twisted into a grimace, Aether’s eyes softened as they gazed at each other; staring with an odd mix of emotions that Dew never really thought about too much. They were the ones Copia expressed to him daily, the ones that lit a different kind of fire inside the ghoul’s heart that he’d never really explored. They were different, and he normally despised that. But he figured he might give it just a bit of a shot then.

 

“Ghouls,” Copia warned, shifting his hips slightly against where Aether was still pulsing inside him; reveling in the slightly wet noise that followed. The quint hissed and rumbled something Copia didn’t comprehend but understood regardless. The hybrid fixed Dew with an intense stare and he froze in place. That wasn’t a look Copia pulled out very often, reserved mostly for commanding as the leader he was. “Come here, ghoul,” He whispered, nose tilted up and for a split second, Dew could see the Cardinal. Not necessarily the personality, but the mysterious atmosphere he’d carried with him; slinking through the darkened hallways of the Abbey, white eye glowing like a lantern. Dew had caught him many times like that, off in his own world as he muttered and bitched over paperwork. He’d never intercepted him though, not until the first tour had ended and he’d felt comfortable enough around the shifty guy to actually approach him without freaking him out. Dew missed Copia’s old face sometimes—though he did quite fancy this new one—the pointed nose, jaw sharp like his own. Something about the whole mix set him off every time he saw him, and he was sure it was for the right reasons.

 

Dew crawled further forward, practially laying on top of him. Though, he’d never minded that. Copia’s lips quirked up into a smirk and, oh, Dew recognized that smile. He was plotting something. Copia prodded his thighs atop Aether’s—presenting—and fixed Dew with a desperate glance, reaching for the ghoul’s dripping want. While Copia had only indulged in this type of scene a few times—had never felt ready enough for it—he found himself desperate; wishing so deeply to feel the both of them together; to feel them both embed themselves inside him; to take a part of them for as long as it would stay. 

 

Once more, Copia gasped at the slick press of a head against his stretched entrance and he keened as Dew retracted, slicking himself just a bit more; just to ensure he’d fit. There really was no reason he wouoldn’t, but for as much as Dew enjoyed seeing blood across Copia’s pale skin, he definitely did not enjoy seeing it anywhere near where it would actually hurt him; beyond what he’d asked for at least. 

 

Dew hushed him softly, nosing under his jaw as he pushed against him once more. “Shh, you’re doin’ good so far, Papa,” Dew whispered as he began to gently push inside, gripping under Copia’s thighs as the hybrid jumped in his grasp. It burned, opening him up to near capacity and Copia cried out at the sensation. But—just as Dew’s heated touch had earlier—it satisfied that fucked up part of his being, the part that ached for the pain; and he—even as he grit his teeth—found himself smiling through it; all the way until his lovely fire ghoul’s hips pressed against the undersides of his thighs. 

 

Copia found himself howling out a reverent, “Fuck…!” as they both began a gentle push and pull. It was definitely harder to set a rhythm than before, but none of them minded, too caught up in the delightful press and fluttering to really think clearly. Shaking hands found their ways to Dew’s shoulders, sliding across his shoulder blades to press him closer; silently begging for the familiar press of chest to chest. Aether’s arms followed Copia’s pleas as well, snaking around his midsection to grasp at Dew’s hips. 

 

Like that, they held each other as if it were the last time; that they may simply vanish if they ever let go. It didn’t usually feel that desperate—the ever present feelings of yearning—but something about everything they’d worked for, everything they’d gone through so far, felt different. It still felt wrong, all of it. And Copia still felt the lingering cloud of uncertainty hovering over his head, the bell hadn’t tolled yet, but it was damn close; and Copia still felt the mounting dread of something worse. The rolling waves of mistake, mistake, mistake drifting and assaulting against his body. 

 

But his thoughts were quickly burned away at the familiar press of another inside; another two. The complementary push and pull allowing for his brain to slip away into something fuzzy, though he wasn’t sure it was entirely without Aether’s influence. So he supposed he’d just have to dwell on the future some other time.

 

But he’d always feel better knowing he had his two safety nets by his side if anything went too wrong.

Notes:

I had debated for months about adding this scene or something like it at all because I didn't want people clicking on this fic just for this specific chapter; I wanted people to read my story because they found it interesting, not because there's a chapter that vaguely describes this kind of thing. I wrestled with the idea for a long time, trying to figure out the best way to execute the concepts I wanted to without having this kind of thing in the fic. But I feel like it relates the points I wanted to get across the clearest/in a very them sort of way, so I ultimately decided to keep it; However, it has gone through several different edits and iterations, and I'm still not entirely happy with it.
But I feel alright with how it turned out, so I'm uploading it anyway.

K bye, go follow my Twitter: @Splash2Lemon

Chapter 9: 9

Notes:

Holy shit guys- I'm back after almost three months lmaoo-
I didn't abandon this, I swear. I had a whole bunch of medical problems to deal with and then Deltarune 3 and 4 came out so I got sucked into that.
BUT, I went to my first ever Ghost ritual in Thursday so now I'm back into the swing of things again; meaning, the last 5 (ish) chapters should come out with relative frequency.
Especially since I've graduated high school and whatnot.
Anyhow, obligitory Spotify link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NngQfQZS3aVQCiZ2lg4hO?si=tP6gZhOgSy2VW0UvJIIhCw
Happy Reading!

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

Copia cracked a purple eye open to soft murmuring from around the corner. Groaning, he stretched out, fingers brushing overtop a small point of a horn; the surface hot to the touch. He grinned despite himself and let his fingers dance over the notches and ridges decorated across the bony surface. 

 

Nuzzled up against the right side of his scarred neck was an elongated nose; snuffling softly against the skin there and tickling the small hairs at his nape. Aether was always a cuddly sleeper. Not that Copia particularly minded, of course; he was too, after all. Hypocrisy and what-have-you. Always itching to be as close as the ghoul's stocky frame would allow. He often reminded Copia of a large stuffed animal, or one of those huge dogs that behave like lap dogs. He was, to put it bluntly, insanely needy. All the time, everyday. If they weren't already together, Copia might’ve been perturbed by the ghoul's insane attentiveness. But he supposed he'd miss it when it inevitably was gone. 

 

The hybrid gazed up into the light dotted sky above as he caressed Dew's horn. He was picky about who actually got to touch them, and—even if they were together—Copia wasn't usually one of those granted access. He'd often heard Aether complaining about the firecracker’s lack of acceptance, which granted Copia some piece of mind that he wasn't excluded simply because he was human. Well, excluded… again. Whatever his ghoul's reasons were, he definitely couldn't deny the gentle purring emitting from his tiny frame as Copia's hand gravitated across his crown. 

 

The purring wasn't a new development, but it always astounded Copia whenever he heard it. He nosed at Dew’s forehead, humming at the soft scents of fire and woodsmoke. 

 

The hushed voices around the corner continued, growing slightly in volume and Copia groaned again. He made a move to get up, wincing at the subtle burn between his legs. He was getting too old for all that excitement, he mused. Keeping a watchful eye out, Copia crept across the bundling of materials the three of them had been sleeping on; though his joints certainly protested the movement—cracking loudly in the silence of the area. He wouldn’t necessarily call it a “room”, as it only had three walls and no roof; but it was private enough to be classified enough.

 

Aether had lamented upon their arrival the day prior that the nest had seen many better days. He’d remembered it with at least a roof, quite a nice one at that. Though, Copia supposed there wasn’t an expansive variety of styles to choose from. Aether had shown him around a few of the more public areas he remembered, mentioning rather excitedly about the many things he’d seen or heard growing up. Anecdotes and things that reminded Copia of himself in a way; the excitement at sharing something so personal with another. 

 

Rounding the corner—still fastening the last few clips of his vest—Copia was met with the other seven ghouls huddled close on the ground, chattering quite animatedly about something or other. He figured it’d be rude to snoop, but it was too late as his ears perked to listen to them all. 

 

“We’re all super sure this is the only option we have?” Hissed the little ghoulette. 

 

“It doesn’t look like we really have another choice here, Rora,” 

 

A beat. 

 

“From what we’ve heard back from the castle, it seems like we wouldn’t be able to fix this on our own anyway,” 

 

Copia grimaced to himself, tail flicking in distaste. They’d talked about this on their walk over; about what exactly the game-plan was when they all woke up the next day. The older ones had connections to the capital—insider information, Copia guessed. It was worse than they’d imagined. Truthfully, they all figured bringing Copia into the equation was unnecessary anyway. But it appeared he was to be their saving grace; their gift from, uh, un-heaven. 

 

Most of them knew special backways through the landscape, having lived there long enough to explore the hidden areas. Phantom especially; which Copia wasn’t entirely okay with. The poor ghoul had practically lived everywhere, and it hurt to know why. Sneaking Copia through the forests shouldn’t be any issue. Not many beings traversed there anyway, so they’d all bet on not running into anyone else. 

 

“Who’s going to keep an eye on him when we get there?” Copia shouldered against the doorway, eyes narrowed to prevent the colors from shining brighter than they already were. 

 

“Didn’t Aether mention something about that?” He smirked. Of course his closest ghoul would accompany him in something so dangerous. Copia didn’t really know why he expected anyone else. Aether had always been fiercely protective of his mates, but Copia especially. The quint hadn’t had another being so close really ever. The closest was Terzo, but that was definitely different than what they had. Aether was a safe insurance, a familiar presence that was different from what Copia shared with the other eight. He’d always felt stronger with the quint by his side, and he wondered just how much of Aether’s magical influence catered to that. 

 

Copia coughed deliberately to signal his arrival and a fanged smile stretched across his face as seven pairs of eyes turned to greet him. 

 

“Oh, Papa!” Startled Cumulus. She made a move to stand and greet him properly, but he had already decided for the group to join them. 

 

“Ciao, my lovely ghouls,” Copia smiled tiredly and took a seat next to Mountain on the end of their oddly shaped semicircle. The large ghoul in question slid an arm around the hybrid’s shoulders, manhandling him into his lap. Copia went willingly, pliant like a cat, but not without a soft laugh. 

 

Copia had noticed the group’s increasingly odd behavior towards him after his transformation; The lingering eyes, studying him as if he were an ant under a microscope; the subtle—but not subtle—guarding, the largest of them always standing just a few paces behind him. Truthfully, Copia felt almost childish like that. He’d always adore his ghouls’ attentiveness, but he could also handle himself perfectly fine, thank you very much. 

 

In the weeks before they’d all traversed downward, they had all insisted at least two of them should stay by his side during the nights; which—if he was completely honest—he really didn’t mind all that much. He was used to it. Traveling with eight extremely affectionate adults in a cramped bus for as long as he had been had sort of conditioned him to expect company at night. Though, their neediness had apparently increased tenfold, which was just slightly annoying. 

 

Copia had often woken up in the early hours of the morning to the unrelenting press of his companions surrounding him. Most nights it was a comfort, and he’d slip back asleep dreamlessly. Though sometimes the company provided more irritation than humility; and Copia would have to fight his way out of the pile to begin his day on time. 

 

However, Copia couldn’t pass up an opportunity to spend his free time surrounded by his companions. Although the calloused hands currently tickling at his sides were not a welcome surprise, and Copia squirmed in the large ghoul’s lap. 

 

Swatting the ghoul’s hands away, Copia cleared his throat, “Alright, my lovely companions,” He began and slumped back against Mountain’s chest, a solid weight against his back to calm his exponentially racing heart. “When the other two get up we are going to continue forward? Is that what I’m gathering?” Nods and various noises of agreement surrounded him. “Okie dokie, then prepare yourselves,” 

 

⛧

 

A certain heaviness weighed across the ten of them as they filed down the gravel path, joined in an odd side-by-side. The pressing feelings of dread had swept onto all of them it seemed. Not hard to catch in the sharp intakes of breath or the stuttering of boots. They were all trembling in some way or another; some better at hiding it than others. Copia wouldn’t necessarily call it straight fear, but there was something he didn’t like about it all; something amiss, as if he’d taken the wrong medication or stepped into the wrong room. The air around them was off, which he shook off anyway as they had a job to do and Copia didn’t fancy becoming distracted by silly anxiety. 

 

The group continued silently, heads on a swivel at any noise around them. Protective in a way that set Copia on edge. 

 

“Okay, stop,” He pushed to the front of the group and froze there, arms crossed and expression concerned. “Why are you all acting so weird?” Copia growled at the blank stares answering him. “I’m serious, you’ve all hardly said a word since we left. What’s your problem?” It was always a struggle to force his more stern side and it had become a problem early in his career as frontman that Imperator practically had to drill it through his skull to at least try and be a little mean. Which worked somewhat well, though now it appeared more naturally and he often found himself feeling rather paternal when he’d scold his partners. 

 

“Doesn’t this feel…I don’t know…” Cirrus spoke up, “Wrong? Like something’s not right?” She continued, gesturing around. From what he remembered of the landscape everything looked about right. 

 

“Certainly does,” Copia concluded. “But you’re all acting like stray cats,” He huffed, hands coming to rest on his hips. “So what’s going on?” He prodded, “Where are my lovely ghouls, huh?” 

 

A few snorts echoed back at him and Copia grinned. 

 

“We’re still here, Papa,” Mountain rumbled to his left, “Just a little worried, I guess?” Sage eyes swept over his ghoulish counterparts, the rest of them nodding in agreement. “This is gonna be dangerous, and we just don’t want you to get hurt,” He shrugged bashfully and Copia caught a few green sprouts crawling out of the dirt by his feet. 

 

“I’m worried too, my ghouls,” Copia murmured. A deep sigh filtered past his lips as he turned around. “But the only way out is forward and I know we’ve all got each other’s backs, yes?” With a glance over his shoulder, he motioned for the group to continue onwards. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can end this and your friends will all be safe again,” 

 

The group continued down the road, still lacking confidence especially now that Copia was leading them. But they all shrugged anyway and continued onward; still wary of the occasional snap or rustle of leaves. 

 

The landscape stretched as far as any of them could see, curving and bending to accommodate the expanses of trees or rivers that littered the forest in front of them. In that area of the forest, the colors had shifted from the lavenders of Aether’s arena to the blues of Rain’s, decorating the ground in front of them in sparkling spots of lapis; like the stained glass in the chapel—the ones Copia would spend hours gazing at, studying the intricacies of the craftsmanship. Though, walking along the gravel path there, it was a bit foreboding—the feeling of unease pressing on his shoulders like the hands of his mother. 

 

He could always appreciate great scenery however. He’d always been an observer; he didn’t get where he was today by running his mouth—well, not all the time. Copia chose to think of it as a stroll through the ministry gardens, that section of the forest certainly resembled the one bordering the ministry back home; the branches stretching like the lattice arches over the path and the ferns and bushes bordering the road ahead spotted with flowering plants of various shades of blue. Just like the gardens back home, all it was missing was the marble fountiain—and the greenhouse, but mostly the fountain. 

 

The rivers and ponds they passed on their way reminded the singer of a few paintings he’d seen during a tour stop somewhere in Europe, or perhaps it was on the east coast of the United States? He couldn’t be bothered with specifics about that. The surface of the water sparkled like flecks of gold leaf, glittering and streaking through the currents to swirl in whirlpools near the banks. Copia found himself mesmerized, and he paused mid-stride to watch a soft current carry a streak of silver past the toes of his boots. 

 

Moments like those were ones where Copia wished he’d carried a camera around with him, or had that weird photogenic memory he’d heard about; to commit something so strangely beautiful into his mind and never forget it, to be able to look back on it years later and remember the feelings it gave or the sights he was granted. Maybe it was meant to be that he’d eventually forget this experience—though, how could he when it looked like that?

 

Copia hadn’t even realized they’d moved him until he felt a hand curl into the bend of his elbow; too lost in the wonder of such a strange place to remember what exactly they were doing. Right, they had a job to do. A slightly alarming, scary, dangerous job. But by Lucifer below—or, Copia supposed, ahead—they were going to get it done. 

 

While his ghouls did not regale him with tales of their time spent underground quite often, he had learned enough about them to piece together just how important this was for each of them. Naturally it was important all around, but Copia could sense the weight of the task on each of their shoulders; could tell which parts affected who and why. It was a new skill, something Aether and Phantom had taught him in their training sessions a couple months before, some way to tap into the emotions of the beings around him; to read their auras and feel what they do. Empathy. Something like that. 

 

It was painful sometimes, to learn the issues around him without having a clear way to help. Copia had spent many nights awake, staring up at the empty ceiling above his crowded bed thinking about the things he’d read from other people that day. The gift of knowledge is sometimes a curse in disguise. It was painful, and there were some days that Copia wished everyone could leave him alone so he could finally have peace and quiet. 

 

At the same time, that ability allowed him to learn all the fascinating quirks his partners had; the nervous fidgeting Rain used was a way to distract from his ever racing mind, Mountain’s insistence for touch stemmed from some abstract feelings of isolation Copia could pick out from his mind, Phantom’s insane energy appeared to relate to his lack of nourishment as a child. Copia could’ve spent days studying those hidden qualities; learning all the new things he could find about each of them. 

 

But they had a mission; so that time was—mostly—spent training his abilities. Though, who could blame him for getting distracted every now and then. It didn’t seem to affect any of them anyway. But of course it didn’t. 

 

Copia’s musings were cut short at the rumbling under his feet and the crackling of rock against rock. The pressure in his skull that followed was deafening, like the pressure of a deep ocean all at once. The rest of them had felt it too, all nine of them crumbling in one way or another. Hands flew to cover ears and knees connected with the rough ground below as the group yowled in protest of the noise.

 

It felt similar to the headaches Copia would often get after spending all day in his office; the terrible migraines that, more often than not, Aether would have to press out of his neck and shoulders. A brief thought passed through his mind of asking for that, but upon turning to see him, Copia saw that Aether was much the same as him—kneeling against the ground with a splitting headache. 

 

He tilted as he tried to regain balance, arms waving about to grasp anything to pull himself up. Connecting with nothing, Copia managed to stand up on shaking knees, heart pounding in his ears; but at least it was better than listening to a frequency just out of his audible range. 

 

Suddenly, as suddenly as it began, it stopped; dropping its hold on the nine of them like the floor had opened beneath them on a stage. And the group fell limp against the gravel, heaving and whimpering at the residual pain left behind, thundering around their skulls like a marble in a glass, or one of those drinks with the glass ball inside.

 

“Papa…”   Hissed the forest, the wind through the leaves or the scurrying of legs through grass; as if it were alive and speaking to them. Copia startled and whipped around, scanning the canopy for any sign of, well, anything. 

 

“What?” Copia chittered. Straightening his posture, Copia turned to survey the group of ghouls still writhing on the ground before him. Odd, was the headache really that bad? 

 

“Distrust in your vision…”  Came another. The shadows appeared to stretch into infinity, darkened impossibly despite the time of day. 

 

“Let us help,  Papa…”   

 

“Us?” He questioned, taking a step or two further into the brush, searching for the origin of that strange voice. In the back of his mind, Copia knew this was trouble, that running from his group—still writhing on the gravel—would most certainly spell out his demise, but he felt tethered to it; far away from his body and he just couldn’t will himself to stop walking. 

 

“You can see differently than most…”  Copia’s left hand came up to cover his eye, obscuring the glowing of the landscape. 

 

“You are special…we could use the help…”   

 

“ He could use the help…”   A furrow appeared between Copia’s brows. Who? He thought for sure that all the help he could provide would’ve been from the side he was already on; and—if someone did need any help—he for sure wouldn’t know about it like this. 

 

“Who’s he?” Copia questioned. Blinking, the haze in front of his eyes began to clear, limbs feeling not so heavy and far away. He took a moment to look around, registering just how far he’d walked into the brush. The path seemed like a small point miles away from him, and his heart began to beat faster and faster at the sight; like vertigo, but he’d walked that distance and just didn’t realize. Strange.

 

Copia turned on his heel quickly and began to backtrack, reaching for an outstretched branch to stabilize himself as his vision spun from the movement. Stumbling, he focused solely on placing one foot in front of the other. The snapping of branches behind him spurred him on further, and Copia broke into a sprint, tripping and stumbling, but still running. 

 

It felt dreamlike, running from something that he couldn’t see; that was speaking to him through the flora, hypnotizing. Like running on water, or through a wind tunnel. If he had wings, Copia may have started flying. 

 

Though, Copia wasn’t entirely certain how much of that feeling was truly just because of the landscape and how much was actually him. But nonetheless, the weightlessness was a welcome feeling; a respite from the lingering stress that had followed him like a spectre for the past few months. As if someone had stolen it right out from under his nose, it had vanished then; and Copia found himself laughing giddily as he reached the gravel path once again, practically tumbling over himself as he came to a stop next to his ghouls. They all appeared fine then—fine enough—standing up to dust themselves off. Copia, in his haze, did take note of the slightly frantic look in a few of their eyes—mainly Aether, but he supposed that was a given. 

 

“Oh, Papa,” Aether sighed deep, practically swooning and Copia snorted. 

 

“Where’d you go? We thought you got grabbed or something,” Dew huffed, striding up next to him to pull the singer to his feet. Copia smiled gratefully at the ghoul, spaded tail flicking happily behind him. 

 

“Just over there,” Copia gestured vaguely to the disturbance in the foliage. “Someone was speaking to me, I think,” He shrugged and turned back around. The others raised brows in confusion.

 

“Someone was…speaking to you,” Swiss repeated slowly, brows knit tight together. The rest of the group shared a glance that Copia didn’t quite catch. The singer nodded his assent.

“Si, yes, so I went to go check,” Copia explained, puzzled and with a slight tilt of the head. Aether and Swiss locked eyes for a moment before the quint slid up beside him, grasping his arm.

 

“Right, just um…” Aether trailed, looking a bit sheepish. “Just tell us next time, okay? You’ve never been here before; Don’t want you gettin’ lost on us,” Copia snorted and leaned against him. 

 

“Certainly. Of course, my ghoul,” He whispered. “Now then!” With a clap of his hands, “Let us continue onward!” 

Notes:

Yo yo yo, I'm not too happy with this chapter (I feel like I say that with every upload lol). I was too eager to get to the next one that this one turned out kind of shit :/
However, the end is, eh, somewhat near! Almost out of the woods!
Then there's a special surprise that I really wanna spoil but I'm not gonna >:)
K follow my Twitter: @Splash2Lemon
AND my Tumbler: @missr4ven
K bye!

Chapter 10: 10

Notes:

Hi guys...
I got super lazy when I started writing this chapter which is why it took so long I'm ngl, rip
But it's done! So now we get to get to the action and whatnot that I totally know how to write :(
Spotify as always: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NngQfQZS3aVQCiZ2lg4hO?si=tP6gZhOgSy2VW0UvJIIhCw
Okay, happy reading!

If the end of the world was presented to you, how would you prevent it?

 

Approaching the end felt, at least to the younger ones, like approaching the final battle of a video game. In a way, it might’ve been. The final task before their final goal was reached; the pearly gates—in a macabre way. Though, the seed of doubt still hung heavy over their minds, planting unpleasantly under their skin into something restless; as if it were water boiling too close to the edge of a pot. A fog, black like smoke, but in lieu of burning. Copia swore he could actually see it and shook his head a few times to clear his vision. 

 

The group had been walking for, he guessed, hours; though it had felt more like days. However, in the band’s ‘off season’, Copia only really traversed from his quarters to his office—occasionally stopping by the ghoul’s wing to see them. Not a far distance by any means. So naturally everything would feel that much longer. No mind, Copia had eight other beings to keep him company while they traversed the landscape. 

 

He still couldn't deny the slight tinge of boredom that settled over his mind; like the fog that settled over the Ministry’s courtyard in the early mornings of the summer. Copia—on the rare occasion he actually woke up early—would often sit at the window of his office and watch the sun burn off the morning fog. It reminded him of the mornings he’d spend with Aether, lying in the dark nursing another migraine, or perhaps a joint issue—he’d contracted quite a few of those in his later years, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. The singer had become so used to the gentle press of calloused hands against the base of his neck, or the curve of his spine; pressing out the aches from performing or the throbs from whatever stress had befallen him that week. 

 

It was a sort of shared ritual between them, something just the two of them shared; secret from any prying eyes. Though, and Copia was pretty certain about this, the rest of the ghouls had a pretty good idea of the pair’s morning happenings. They weren’t overtly loud in their language, but the rest of them had enough sense to tell when the large ghoul snuck down to the singer’s chambers. 

 

Always something that Copia looked forward to at least; he just hoped Aether felt the same—which, of course he did. Any excuse to hang out with his mate was one the ghoul always basked in. 

 

The crunch of rock and leaves reminded him of the forest around late autumn, the soft chill in the air just on the right side of biting to be comforting. The forest brought quite a beautiful respite for those around the grounds looking for tranquility; or perhaps—in Copia’s case, at least—a small escape from the mountains of work that constantly littered his desk. Just a small place empty of passers-by to rest his overworked mind. 

 

There was a small clearing Copia had frequented when he was much younger—and had more time on his hands—just past the last gate to the gardens. Only a short walk through a slightly overgrown portion of the path and the trees broke apart like the crowds so often did for him when he returned home from a tour. 

 

It was most often Mountain who found him there, sitting under a rather old willow tree, basking in the spots of moonlight that speared through the gaps in the branches. Sometimes he’d be asleep, sometimes there would be a book clutched in his ungloved hands, and sometimes Mountain would sit with him for a white before bringing him back to bed. Those interactions had decreased in frequency after a certain night when Mountain hadn’t been there; until one day, Copia stopped coming back. 

 

Aching with the effort of having walked for so long, the nine of them brightened at the sight of a small lake, affixed at a point with a strange looking bench—they all hoped it was a bench—overlooking the reddened water.

 

A bit stereotypical, Copia mused as he watched some of the others race up to the edge. Just as the water had done miles before, there too it sparkled like glitter on a tray of milk; dancing colors like lava and reflecting across the surrounding flora like stained glass. Red, Copia snorted but sat at the edge anyway, How expected. 

 

Not that he particularly minded; the area was certainly beautiful anyway, and Copia figured he could spend forever or longer sitting there staring. Maybe if they had some time to spare…well, Copia mused, they certainly did if they could all take a break at all. Though, he was quite grateful for that fact, nerves still on fire and legs sore from the journey. 

 

He almost thought to laugh at himself for sitting down in the first place, as it had only strengthened his resolve to not get up and continue; however, that might’ve just been the fear of the unknown knocking on his door again. But the familiar press of Aether’s left side against his arm was a soothing balm, however small the contact may have been; like an aurora bursting to life in front of his eyes—electric in the best way. 

 

Such an incredible weight rested on each of them. Copia could practically see it pressing into them; black and dusty, like soot collecting in a chimney. Or maybe the dust that had collected on the shelves of his office, forgotten as he assumed the rest of them feared—the unknown of victory. If they were to win, who would know it was their victory—their sacrifice? Copia supposed the people at home would certainly hear about it…somehow. He really had no clue how they gathered that sort of information, but he supposed it didn’t necessarily matter that much. Copia had, through his many years working with the eight of them—as well as the others back at the ministry—figured out which ones were the most headstrong; or, in his words, passionate about themselves. Not necessarily egotistical, but Copia could point out which ones would certainly benefit from being recognized, and which ones just wished to be remembered. Though, he figured no one would forget any of them anytime soon judging by the great successes they’d gathered from just tours alone—disregarding the contributions around the Ministry. 

 

Oblivion was something that passed through Copia’s mind as well. On a more than frequent basis no less. While he would later learn how to manage it somewhat okay, there would always be the small sapling sprouting up with the aid of anxiety. He’d often deliberated about his intense stage presence and what that really meant to him; like portraying a character for so long it’s difficult to let it go. Change—his biggest enemy. 

 

“What’s got your nose so scrunched up there, Papa?” Aether muttered and slid a bit closer, hesitating as the material of the bench creaked under their combined weight. Copia startled initially, snapping out of his thoughts quickly at the sound of a splash—only to then find two of his ghouls submerged in the glittering water, and he laughed. 

 

“I’m…I am unsure, Aeth,” Copia whispered. Orange and purple fell to his hands, clasped tight in his lap and gloves creaking under the stress. He leaned just a bit closer against the quint, quietly trilling in frustration; aimed at what, he couldn’t quite place.

 

“Describe it?” Aether responded. That had been something he’d started with Dew, allowing the small ghoul the space to piece together a rough estimate of feelings. He’d never quite grasped the right way to explain himself correctly anyway. Copia was thankful Aether had the foresight in the first place.

 

The singer sighed heavily, sinking bonelessly against Aether’s form. “I don’t know, eteré. I just don’t,” He shook his head. “Feels…dark, and empty. Like something is going away before it should,” Copia murmured. And it was definitely true. For months the singer had felt that presence of abandonment; similar to the other messes he held within himself, though that one was more alarming than anything; and Copia had spent many nights awake—alone—attempting to decipher what any of it meant. 

 

“Anything you can grab onto?” The quint pressed. A large clawed hand encircled the hybrid’s bicep, tracing small circles there. “Features, or feelings?”

 

“Anxiety, I guess,” Copia shrugged, though it didn’t fit quite right. Something about it felt more akin to sorrow or heartbreak, but he just didn't have the right word to describe whatever that feeling was. “You’ll promise me something?” Copia whispered and Aether chirped questioningly. 

 

“Of course, whatever you want,” He replied quickly. 

 

Copia took a deep breath and sat up. “When we get there and this is, eh, all over…” He trailed, gaze cast somewhere distant. “You’ll still be here?” Rushed like the words hurt to say, and Aether had to stop himself from physically recoiling at the question. It sounded a bit absurd to him, but if that was what it took to calm his Papa’s nerves, then sure, he’d promise him much more than that. 

 

“I’ll always be here, Copia,” Aether smiled bright, hands coming up to hold Papa’s face. “Always,” Lavender lips met with maroon skin as the quint pressed a gentle kiss against Copia’s forehead. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily if that’s what you’re looking for!” That earned a small, and slightly wet chuckle from the hybrid; who—in as short a time as always—had begun to cry royal tears, dripping them onto Aether’s fingers. “When the time comes, I’ll come back to you. I promise,” He finished and the tip of his nose nuzzled against Copia’s cheek. Copia purred, although he didn’t feel like he entirely believed that. But he’d push away the seed of doubt that spawned at the forefront of his mind as many times as he needed to until he was certain it wouldn’t come back. 

 

“No, I wouldn’t want to get rid of you,” Copia murmured and his eyes creased into a smirk. “...Yet at least,” Aether chirped in surprise and Copia snickered. “I’m joking, gattino,” and the pair laughed together for a moment. 

 

While not one to join in on the more excitable—or in Copia’s mind, young—festivities; the swimming and whatnot, Copia—and by extension Aether—still found entertainment enough in supervising. That had been a skill Aether had developed after retiring a few years ago; overseeing various meetings and inner workings of the Ministry. Aether had sort of wished his retirement meant something similar to Sunshine’s. The fiery ghoulette had transferred to another facility after a certain sickness had nearly rendered her blind. The experience had scarred her, and quite soon after Sunshine had specifically requested for Papa to transfer her to a smaller and quieter location. Aether didn’t know exactly where, but from the letters she’d sent them, it sounded peaceful; and that’s what Aether had been hoping for. Though he supposed he couldn’t be super upset about that, at least it wasn’t touring. Even though Aether adored the stage—almost as much as Papa—the continuous touring had taken a lot more out of him than he’d figured. He knew why Copia complained about his joints all the time at least. 

 

Maybe taking a short break to sit down wasn’t the best idea, as soon, Aether found his eyes slipping and the familiar tug of sleep threatening his brain. Though Copia’s new elemental warmth was not helping in that regard; feeling less like his partner and more like a heated and weighted blanket draped half across his side; and the subtle purring reverberating through his chest was a balm, soothing his nerves into a light slumber—like a cat, Copia had commented once or twice. 

 

⛧

 

Copia had been watching the rest of the group for a while, smiling to himself at their antics. While he was not entirely pleased with the fact their nice tailored suits were currently getting soaked in the glow of the lake—now that he really thought about it, Copia found it a little odd just how many bodies of water; or what seemed to be water there were there—he could still appreciate the fact they still had enough time before their final stand to commence in something as small as a water fight in a red lake. 

 

Though something still weighed heavily in his mind. Even if he’d thought he figured it out talking to Aether; it was still there, festering like an open sore. And Copia needed to hear it from all of them.

 

“Ahem, eh, Ghouls?” He prompted, causing most of them to pause and look over at him; glowing eyes fixated on him. Aether sighed in his sleep and curled closer to him and Copia snorted. “Aeth, tesoro, can you wake up for a moment?” The ghoul in question groaned softly and cracked a singular purple eye open, shining with fatigue and a bit of irritation. 

 

“Yes, Papa?” Dew’s head tilted curiously, horns still dripping after being submerged. Copia had felt immense relief the first time the ghoul had returned to the water after his transformation. The singer had been nervous he’d never return, though the fire ghoul had specifically requested for a bit of company, and Copia was just grateful their relationship hadn’t been permanently destroyed. Some things—it seemed—were still mendable. 

 

“Something’s bothering you isn’t it?” They always seemed to know what exactly was on his mind; or perhaps he was simply too readable. Most likely the ladder if he were to say so himself.

 

He stalled for a moment, lip caught between his fangs as he considered his options. Yes, there certainly was, but—at least to him—it was definitely embarrassing to admit so openly. However, after touring with them for so long Copia supposed there really wasn’t room for formalities anymore. With a sigh, “Yes…there is,” 

 

“You gonna tell us what it is or…?” Swiss leaned forward against the outcropping, lower half still submerged in the water. His arms crossed over each other against the gravel. 

 

Copia shuffled in his spot on the bench, tail flicking unconsciously in his discomfort. “Come gather close,” He gestured them closer. As the sound of shuffling and muted splashes of water subsided, Copia sighed and began again. “You all know that I love you very much, yes?” He caught the wavering in his voice and internally cringed at himself. 

 

“Yes, Papa,” Cirrus replied quizzically, face twisted in confusion. “What is this about?”

 

Copia shuffled against Aether once again, nerves burning hot as the surface of his skin as his spade flicked gravel and dust about behind him. “Just, uhm…if anything was gonna happen, that…” He trailed and the self conscious flicking of his ears didn't go unnoticed. Such is the nervousness embedded deep, like the pressure of the deep ocean, shocking like a vice. Self consciousness taunted him throughout most of his life, leering at him around corners or in the dark shadows behind his eyes. Although Copia had worked quite hard over the past few years to try and stamp it out, but it had always crept back in; especially in moments of vulnerability. Especially then. 

 

“Papa,” Cirrus sighed. “Copia,” She corrected upon seeing the vacant look in his eyes. “Nothing is going to happen—to any of us,” She continued, stepping out of the water to grasp his hands. Her touch was cold and damp, fingers wrinkled from being submerged under the crimson water for so long. It felt reassuring in the curling of slender claws, digging into the backs of his hands through the thick leather of his gloves. “We love you, Copia. We really do,” A spark behind her eyes—blue like the depths of the Mariana Trench. Though, it had always amused Copia to make that connection as Cirrus commanded the skies; unlike a ghoul like Rain, whose eyes—while still beautifully sapphire—were more muted in their shine; still deep as the sea, but with a touch of grey. Perhaps, he’d muse alone at his desk—avoiding responsibilities as usual—they switched eyes, or something silly like that. 

 

“Yes, I suppose you might be right,” Copia conceded, though not completely convinced. “But if something were to happen…what would we do?” He finished, shaking voice ending in a whisper—void of his usual slightly eccentric bravado. Copia grasped at Cirrus’s hands as if she might vanish if he let go, like the smoke of the golden thurible swinging left and right at the head of the stage, smelling of frankincense and mysterious in the glint of the stage lights. “How could we recover?” I, his mind corrected. Always one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, the lavender in his eye flashed bright.

 

“I guess we’d just have to adapt,” Cumulus cut in, sliding up near his unoccupied side on the bench. She wrapped a slightly damp arm around his shoulders, tugging him just a bit closer; like always. It was a comfort they’d figured out pretty early on after her initial summoning—the pressing desire to just fit together like that. And they did, quite often; curled up close together during storms or in front of the small fireplace in Copia’s bedroom with a few of the other chillier ghouls with them as well—anything to soak up what little insulation the Abbey’s walls could provide. “Like always,” She added quietly, and the group, whether they would ever admit it or not, knew exactly who she was talking about. 

 

“Whether or not something like that’s gonna happen,” Mountain, sat with his back against Copia’s knees. “We’d all still come back,” He continued. “To you. Whether you want that or not,” And Copia snorted. He’d always welcome them back to him, no matter the circumstances. Something pulsed through him then, smelling like forget-me-nots and the subtleness of early autumn. With it brought the intense feeling of determination; confidence, and Copia found himself put a bit at ease. He chose to latch onto that feeling rather than the darker ones still festering inside him. 

 

“We’re all here for the long haul, Papa,” Dew murmured, having curled up in Aether’s lap sometime when Copia hadn’t been looking. “And, you know,  kinda like you and stuff,” As he spoke, the ghoul turned his nose away and into Aether’s chest to hide the quite obvious tinting to the high points of his cheeks, and Copia couldn’t hold back his amused smile. 

 

“Well, I ‘kind of’ like you all as well,” Copia grinned, pointed teeth reflecting the redness of the lake in front of him. “And you are all correct, we will persevere…all of us,” He breathed out. The pressing weight of the unknown still lingered quite heavily on his chest, but it had shifted somewhat—like a housecat across his lap, it had changed positions; becoming not as pressing. Copia reached over and grasped Aether’s hand, squeezing just a bit harder than comfortable. 

 

⛧

 

The group of them had stayed there for quite a while, just basking in the subtle emotions passed around the group; pulsating with all the love and tranquility one could muster in a place like that. The lake was quite nice to look at, Copia had to admit. After laying around each other, some of the routier ghouls had gone back to the water to mess around and swim once again, and the sound of the water lapping against the edge of the outcropping had acted as a quiet kind of white noise, blocking out some of the darker thoughts. 

 

At least, it did for Copia. Aether, however, sat ridged beside him; tensed in muscle and mind. He clutched onto Copia tight, chin practically embedded into the hybrid’s shoulder. His mind had been wandering for a while and he just couldn’t figure out how to calm it down. 

 

“Copia?” Aether murmured and his eyes slipped over to see if he was even awake. Copia stirred, shifting against the ghoul’s side. “You said something earlier about something happening to one of us,” Aether prompted and Copia’s tail flicked nervously.

 

“I did, yes,” Copia murmured, gaze fixed on the scene in front of them. “What about it?” Aether shifted again and Copia sat up to face him. The ghoul stiffened at the attention, jaw set and ears pinned like a frightened house cat. An odd sort of temperament that Copia had only seen from Aether in particular a handful of times in the stretch of their relationship. 

 

“Um…If something like that happened…” He trailed and the claws of one hand flicked against the others. “You would still come back to us, right?” To me, was left unsaid; though it never needed to be. They both knew very well what Aether really meant. The look in his eyes would’ve been confirmation enough, but the heightened sense of empathy that had come with Copia’s transformation tapped into the ghoul’s deeper thoughts; had felt the darker emotions. 

 

Gathering the quint’s hands in his own, “My ghoul, lo mio luce stellare,” Copia continued. He grasped Aether’s hands tight, leather creaking gently at the give of sharp claws against the insides. “It would take the devil himself coming to get me to rip us apart,” Foreheads bumped together, calming—though that time wasn’t necessarily just a learned behavior. “Maybe I wouldn’t be the same, perhaps I may be someone else completely,” Sighing, Copia drew back to look him in the eye and he couldn’t help the small grin that stretched across his face—not that he really tried to, not with Aether. “But you should know that I’ll always come back to you,” 

 

Something about the whole scene reminded Copia of feelings of his from the past; the deep ones that would startle him awake at night, staring into the moonlight as it shifted across the ceiling; staring into the bright spots reflecting off the banisters of his room—or more accurately, Aether’s room—as one or more of his partners dozed around the room. Those deepest feelings like rolling waves, capsizing concrete seawalls built specifically to keep them out; the ones of betrayal and abandonment. Though, Copia was used to the mental assaults late at night. But that still didn’t answer why it felt so different to hear Aether asking the same things. 

 

Finally, Aether offered a crooked smile and that put Copia a bit more at ease. 

 

⛧

 

As the sky had begun to darken above them, the nine of them had regrouped to continue. Thoroughly soaked from the lake, their bootprints planted wetly against the gravel path behind them, trailing in mismatched sequences where some had carried another. Dew had caught the frilled sleeve of Copia’s undershirt a short ways down the embankment—just before the arches of the trees—and tugged him back, face warily set. 

Though not a particularly unusual expression for the fire ghoul, something was definitely different about the way his gaze flickered across Copia’s face. The ghoul’s grip on his sleeve tightened slightly, and the subtle rip of the frilled fabric was audible in the surrounding silence of the forest; only interrupted by the lapping of the water against the gravel overlook. 

 

“Something is on your mind, lucciola,” An observation, Copia remarked with a tired smile. Upon opening his arm, Copia was met with the weight of a trembling, and slightly too warm, ghoul crushed against his chest. “Tell me what it is, let me take the weight off your chest, amore,” Dew’s chest expanded exponentially against Copia’s side before he lifted his head, golden eyes shining against the darkening sky. 

 

“Papa, you’ll still, um, still—I mean, nothing's going to…change right?” Dew finished, by the end his voice had become almost mute; eyes fixated on a particularly nothing spot on Copia’s vest. 

 

“Change in what way?” The silence that reverberated his words was so tense, Copia might’ve reached out and grabbed a hold of it for a moment; wringing it like a wet cloth until the tension left the scene. Dew fidgeted against him, as if debating whether or not to run and save himself the embarrassment once more of airing out his feelings. Whale coaxing wasn’t one of Copia’s favorite things to do, he supposed the ghoul left him little else to go on at that point. Lifting him by the chin, Copia studied his face for a moment; the dusting of grey across the bridge of his nose—like a cat—down the sides of his jaw to highlight the scars across his neck. 

 

As Copia held the writings over his wrists, so too did Dewdrop across his neck; beautifully etched into the dents of where gills used to sit. He wondered sometimes if they ever hurt; hurt in the way the marks on the backs of Copia hands hurt—a reminder of something else. Though, he’d never mentioned anything, although, would he ever?

 

“Are you worried that something's going to happen to us?” Copia whispered, lip twitching into a tiny smile upon Dew’s crumpling frown. Okay, question answered, Copia concluded. Gathering him into tight arms, Copia guided the two of them to the edge of the overlook, turning away to gaze out over the water. While now still, Copia imagined it to be filled with thousands of brightly colored fish; like the lake behind the Abbey, sunfish and the like populated it with their reflective yellows and blues against the harshness of the water’s surface. “My ghoul,” He started, backtracking almost instantly for a quieter tone. “You remember that night I met you in the infirmary, yes?” He was met with the eyebrow raise of ‘really? Duh’ and Copia snorted. Forgetting something like that felt illegal. 

 

Though not newly summoned, they had set him up in a private room; mainly reserved for the new summons, but Dew supposed with his behavior it was most likely for the best that he was alone for a while. Dew was used to being alone, he’d spent quite a bit of his time underground alone, or in the silent company of his peers; always just watching from far away. 

 

Being a brighter ghoul meant he’d spend more time near the surface of the water, up where the sunlight could absorb into his scaled skin, offering just a bit of sustenance for the next however many hours. Dew used to enjoy the surface, pointed fins sticking up high out of the water like a shark, silver eyes casting a bright reflection across the river. But sometimes—most times—the shadows under the banks were where he’d wanted to spend the most time, alone, watching the currents carry all matter of things away. 

 

Sometimes it’d carry him with it, glittering silt and debris acting as a float while the caress of the water around him offered a comforting hand; like the touch of a mother. Dew thought about the river quite often nowadays, the endless yearning to feel the comforting chill again ate away at him for hours until he could finally shut off his mind long enough to sleep for just a while; just until the pain of his burns woke him back up again. 

 

Visitors weren't commonplace either, and he liked it that way. The only beings who really regularly came into his room anyway were the nurses or maybe Aether. But Dew could rarely be bothered to answer any of their prodding questions. He had told Aether once that they Clergy better be damn happy he was bed bound for the next few weeks, jaw set and horns flaring orange; and Aether had just sat back against the tiny folding chair with an amused smirk before patting at Dew’s hand twitch the promise that he’d for sure get them someday. 

 

And maybe he snuck a little magic in too, but Dew never mentioned it. 

 

There was that one day though, when the new Cardinal had finally come to see him, that Dew had felt something shift inside him. The Cardinal was definitely a face he wasn’t too keen on seeing—really ever, especially after he mercilessly throned himself frontman.—especially not then, when he was weak, when he had little voice to whisper with, let alone yell. 

 

While he hadn’t actually seen what the new guy looked like, Dew had crafted his own image of what he probably looked like. So, when the door creaked open with all the bravado of a child in trouble, Dew was taken aback for sure. In shuffled the man he’d been fearful of ever seeing; and he looked about as terrified as Dew had felt weeks prior. 

 

There was a definite timidness in the squaring of his shoulders, outlined in a black that Dew would later come to very much enjoy on him. But there, he thought the Cardinal looked kind of silly, dressed so regally but acting so peasant-ish. Dew could take him…easily, definitely. If it weren’t for those damn bandages wrapped tightly around his midsection, he’d have gotten up by then and made it halfway across the room. 

 

And when he spoke, it was nothing like Dew had been imagining. He’d expected a deeper voice, something like Alpha’s maybe. Something commanding, not so, um, nervous. He could practically see the words shaking as they left his mouth. 

 

“Eh, Ciao, ghoul,” The Cardinal had started, seeming to shrink back at the look of utter confusion written across the ghoul’s face. “I am assuming you are the, uh, transform-ee? Yes?” The Cardinal approached the foot of the bed, leather soles clicking loudly in the deafening quiet of the room. 

 

As he neared closer, Dew could see more of his face, more detail. There was a bright red scratch on the underside of his chin, deep; and appearing to have only stopped bleeding a short time before. Otherwise his face appeared unmarred, just speckled with the dots of dark freckles, deep set and youthful eyes—a bit odd for a man seemingly in his forties, but Dew could get behind that—mismatched just like the ones before him. Dew wondered then if there was any sort of kinship between the other three and this new guy, though his features did look very different from the rest of them. The pointed nose in the center of it all was the most unique, a subtle giveaway of vermin. 

 

Guiding his eyes further down, Dew caught the gloves; the hands underneath laced tight together and thumbs squirming anxiously. Terzo had worn the gloves too, though his were a pristine white and often exchanged if even just the tiniest of stains were to appear on them. Though, he wore them to hide the golden band on his finger, mainly from the higher ranking members of the Clergy, but as well to keep appearances up on stage. Dew wondered then what this new Cardinal was hiding under the black leather..

 

He didn’t speak, couldn’t find the voice too and, frankly,  it hurt him quite a bit when he would make conversation—mainly with Aether. Though the Cardinal did see the subtle tilt downward of his chin and he took that as a semi-good sign., striding up to the left bedside to sit straight-backed in the folding chair. Dew thought it looked particularly strange to see someone else occupying a space he’d mentally only ok-ed for Aether, but he didn’t voice his concerns. 

 

And what the Cardinal said next just confused him even more, “This has been difficult for you, hasn’t it?” The Cardinal had sighed gently at the non-response, mismatched gaze cast somewhere out the small window. “Change comes at a price, seemingly always,” He continued and Dew watched as the fronts of his brows twitched minutely. “And this price was substantial, and I am sorry,” 

 

Aether never usually spoke for long when he’d visit, fussing over the ghoul’s wounds until too hot hands would bat him away and he’d sit back with a laugh. Dew enjoyed the comfortable silence and often let his brain wander back to his youth—well, the younger youth. But he found it difficult then as this guy wouldn’t stop talking. Dew wasn’t even really listening anymore, though the quiet timbre of his voice was kind of a nice balm; but that was only something Dew would tell him years down the line. Ego and whatnot.

 

He wasn’t loud, Dew surmised; in volume or in movement, but he could be. Dew sensed potential, the urge to be something greater than he was, the drive of confidence locked inside a box surrounded by a fence of insecurity. Dew sensed himself, and that frightened him. 

 

“While you never spoke directly to me, I knew your feelings,” Copia continued, having kneeled in front of the lake at that point, naked hands flitting about at the surface of the water. Dew straightened self-consciously and Copia couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Aether had talked to me about you before I’d gone to see you, although he also revealed little to help me crack your spiny shell, amore,” Dew chose not to acknowledge that last part, fixated on the swirling of red in front of him. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dew muttered bitterly, flopping down beside him, back to side as he continued to watch Copia’s fingers become coated with deeper and deeper shades of red. Copia caught the flush of his cheeks as he shot the ghoul a slightly incredulous look. 

 

“You know full well what I’m talking about, ghoul,” Copia snorted and flicked a few stray droplets at him, giggling at the hiss it earned him. “I didn’t pry back then because, eh, well we both know why,” Dew grinned. “But I could feel the mix of emotions on you, could pretty much see it myself if I looked hard enough,” 

 

For all the years they’d known each other, Copia had sensed the subtle hesitation in all the ghoul’s actions; the desire to be something he wasn’t anymore as well as the disdain of a new leader thrust upon him. Even in the now Copia could still feel it, dampened by many nights of silence and meetings about behavior, but still there; glowing faint like the last breath of candlelight. 

 

“There’s a war going on inside you, Dewdrop,” Copia had turned to face him then, head on, eyes set firm, and Dew found it hard to look away. “Even now, and it offered endless hurdles for us,” There was a faint drop of sadness in the lavender of his left eye, rippling across the sclera to disappear. “I know how hard you struggled with it, the changes I brought with me. And I’m sorry,” The hybrid worried his lip between two pointed teeth, gaze flicking back over the lake. The voices of their peers had begun to fade down the gravel path, slowly as if they’d known those two would split off. 

 

“It was hard,” Dew finally admitted, exhaling enough air to fill a balloon. “To serve someone else. I thought Aether and Mount were traitors for the longest time,” And he had to turn away at the shake in his own voice. He felt small again, and he hated that feeling. “I wanted to stay loyal like Omega did, till the end of my life I wanted to. But, I don’t know,” He shrugged, a deep sigh leaving his frame as he sagged slightly against Copia’s side, relaxing further at the feeling of an arm around his waist. 

 

“It was difficult for me too,” Copia murmured, grip tight around his waist. “I had almost given up until you showed at my door that one evening,” A fond smile cracked its way across his painted cheeks. “And the rest, as they say, was history,” Dew snorted and pushed him gently at the cheek as Copia turned to nuzzle against his forehead.

 

“Alright, sap,” He groaned. “That’s enough of that,” Copia grinned up at him as he stood, offering his hand to the aging pope. “They’re all probably thinking we got snatched up or somethin’,” Copia took the offering gratefully, knee cracking softly as he struggled to his feet. 

 

“With how long I’ve been on stage, you’d think that would’ve sorted itself out by now,” He muttered bitterly as the fire ghoul led him back down the path to the others.

Notes:

Meow meow, go follow my twt and tumblr bla bla we've been here before lol
k bye

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Metamorphosis And All Things Change